


Black Lagoon: Punishment

by CowboyWeeb



Series: Black Lagoon: Punishment [1]
Category: Black Lagoon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Calm Before The Storm, F/F, F/M, M/M, Punisher - Freeform, park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyWeeb/pseuds/CowboyWeeb
Summary: What happens when a short tempered gunslinger loses the one she loves in a gang shootout? The city of Roanapur gets a little more bloody as punishment is dealt.
Relationships: Rebecca "Revy" Lee/Okajima "Rock" Rokuro
Series: Black Lagoon: Punishment [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121660
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	1. A Day at the Park

**Author's Note:**

> I am a huge fan of the Punisher, he is by far one of the best marvel characters out there. I am also a huge fan of Black Lagoon, the characters, the action, it's amazing. I got hit with the idea one day after reading some fic and thinking out loud, what if anyone could be the punisher, and what if a certain gunslinger with a temper lost someone she loved.  
> I take a lot of inspiration from Garth Ennis's run with the Punisher, mostly Punisher MAX, check it out if you get the chance.

If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me? 

Free Bird  
-Lynard Skynard 

“Mommy, mommy!”

“Slow down there sweetie!”

The little girl continued running ahead of her parents. Rock and Revy laughed. There was their little ball of energy sprinting head, only to run back to them, then run away again, like an over excited dog. She would tire eventually, but it was walks through the park like this that ensured that she would be easier to put to bed. Revy held onto Rocks arm, snuggling against him while they walked. Rock held her as well. This was life. 6 years had passed since they got married, and for 5 years they had been taking care of their little bundle of joy, Hope. She inherited her father's black hair, while she got her mother's looks. Revy joked that she hoped she inherited her skill with firearms instead of Rocks diplomacy. Rock would always reply that she could inherit both their skills, and then maybe use it to take over Roanapur. Of course they hoped that she wouldn’t have the same life as they had. Revy and Rock had put that life long behind them, couldn’t risk any pissed off gangsters shooting after them for killing their buddies.

“That spot on the hill looks good,” Rock observed. 

They continued walking there, and set up for their picnic. It was the perfect day for a picnic. The sun was shining, it was warm out, but not too hot where they would be sweating, but the perfect temperature for a family to feel cool, but not cold. They could wear their shorts, jeans, it didn’t matter. It was a beautiful day. The weather also meant that Hope could chase the butterflies, which were active this time of year. Hearing her laughs could make any day a brighter day. When Rock came home exhausted from working as an accountant, his daughter's laugh took off any weight that was on his shoulders. Revy enjoyed hearing her daughter's laughter as well, it knew she was providing her daughter with a good life. That her daughter was happy. It made Revy tear up at times. She honestly thought she would be the last person to become a mother, let alone get married. But when she discovered she was pregnant, she was terrified. Her childhood had been horrible, the shit she saw, the shit that happened to her. She didn’t think she could be a mother, but Rock, Rock helped calm her and guide her. He assured her that there she had nothing to fear. He would be with her every step of the way. Then came the day Hope was born. Probably the most painful day Revy ever had, she had been shot, stabbed, beaten, cut, but she would have taken all four of those at once than ever relieve that pain again. However, seeing her child, her child that she conceived, looking into her daughter's eyes, then into her husbands, showed that there was nothing to fear. She raised that little girl, who looked up to her, and loved her. She was her angel. She gave Revy hope, which is why she named her that. 

“Revy?” 

Revy looked and saw that Rock was staring at her, he was eating a sandwich, while their daughter was sipping on a Cola. She had spaced out briefly while they were setting up their picnic.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked with his mouthful.

She smiled at him and leaned over to him.

“Just how I got to be the luckiest girl ever,” she said. 

She leaned over and kissed him. They heard the gagging of their daughter and they turned their heads. She was overreacting to them kissing, her face twisted like she smelled something horrible. 

“What’s the matter sweetie?” Revy joked.

“Mommy and daddy kissing,” Hope groaned. 

“Then I guess now that we know it grosses you out we’ll do it more,” Rock teased. 

“Nooooo!!” Hope shrieked and took off. 

Rock and Revy laughed and chased after their daughter. The chased her down the hill, but their daughter was pretty fast for her age. Revy caught up with her and swept her off her feet and tickled her. Her daughter shrieked with laughter, while Rock caught it on film, that was going to be a good memory. She let her go, and let her chase after the butterflies. Rock took over to help her catch the butterflies while Revy caught her breath. She watched as her daughter chased after the butterflies, there was something about them that drew her fascination. Hope loved butterflies, she would always draw pictures of them, she had a stuffed butterfly (which she called Nectar), and almost every article of clothing she had had a butterfly on it. It was adorable.

“Mommy look!” Hope exclaimed.

Hope ran at her mom, holding something in her hands. Revy smiled, she already had an idea what was in there. She opened her hands, revealing a butterfly. The butterfly had grey tips, but was orange on the bottom. Hope held it out to Revy like an offering. Revy looked at the butterfly, and smiled at her daughter with approval. 

“It’s perfect,” Revy praised. “You always catch the best.”

Hope smiled at her mom, revealing a beautiful smile. It was her mothers smile, and she was glad to see it. Hope let the butterfly go, then hugged her mother. It was a surprise, but a welcome one. 

“I love you mommy,” Hope said. 

Revy smiled and hugged her daughter back. 

“Hey, where’s mine?” asked Rock.

Revy smiled and motioned for him to join. They all held each other, they are a happy family. Revy had everything she could ever want. 

****

They were packing up their picnic stuff when Hope tugged on Rocks shirt.

“Daddy, could we get ice cream?”

Rock looked at her with a smirk on his face.

“But you will spoil your dinner,” he teased.

“Pleeeaaaassseeee,” she begged.

“Ask your mother,” Rock teased. 

Hope looked at her mother, giving her the puppy dog eyes. Revy smiled and pretended to think.

“I don’t know…” she said slyly.

“Pleeease!!” Hope begged.

“Ok, lets go get ice cream,” Revy said. 

Hope jumped around all excited. Rock and Revy smiled at each other. It was a beautiful day, so a little ice cream wouldn’t hurt. She looked at Rock, who was packing everything up. It’s hard to believe that when she first saw him she couldn’t wait to dump his body in the river. Now this same man who she considered a pussy, was her husband. He had given her everything she never knew she needed: a loving, caring husband, and a beautiful daughter. She walked over to Rock with a smile on her face. Rock saw his wifes smile; it was a sly, but sexy smile. 

“What is it?” he asked.

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. 

“I just feel like the happiest wife in the world,” she replied.

She smiled at him, time seemed to slow down. Noise seemed to fade. She didn’t notice anything else. All she was focused on was Rock and her happy life. 

If she only snapped out of it a few seconds before what happened next

****

Revy was lost in Rock’s eyes, his face, she couldn’t help but gaze at her handsome, caring, husband.Time was slowed down for Revy, whenever she was with Rock during these moments, everything seemed to go ten times slower. Suddenly Rock’s eyes started rolling into the back of his head. He started going down, like gravity was pulling him down. Suddenly the area around her was becoming more clear. Something red shot out of Rock's head, and it wasn’t paint. Her eyes went wide. Suddenly she started hearing things far more clearly. Someone was shooting, and the gun being used was a Thompson.

While 9 millimeter guns like Uzis and MAC 10s were becoming more common, plenty of gangsters and thugs still used the Thompson. Roanapur had a decent stockpile of them. A lot of them were left behind by the Americans post-Vietname. Gangsters liked the idea of having a 50-100 round drum loaded with .45 ACP rounds. The .45 provided more of a punch to someone. It was one gun you would not want to be shot at with. 

Revy snapped back into reality, her old instincts kicking in. She scanned quickly for Hope. She had to get out there quickly. Hope was standing there as the bullets whizzed all around her. She was holding her stomach, red seeping through her white shirt. Revy’s eyes went wide.

“No….” Revy said in shock. 

“Mommy,” Hope said petrified. 

The shock wore off, and Hope's face turned to pain. She was making faces that no daughter should ever make. Hopes face melted from a bright, sunny daughter, to a tearful daughter in agony.

Revy leapt towards her daughter, when she felt something sting her in her left side. She fell to the ground and gasped for air. She coughed up blood, she had a collapsed lung. Luckily she knew it wasn’t from Thompson, it was from a 9 millimeter. A .45 would have punched a bigger hole in her chest, and she wouldn’t even be standing. It was this moment, she wished she had her guns on her. She crawled towards her daughter, who was riving on the ground, crying in pain. 

“Mommy...mommy…” she sobbed. 

“I’m...coming…” Revy gasped. 

Every crawl Revy took towards her daughter felt like she was getting stabbed by millions of hypodermic needles in the chest. Every breath she took felt like she was breathing in glass, and when she exhaled, blood came out of her mouth. But nothing was going to stop her from getting to Hope. She finally got to her and looked her in the eyes. Hope was in pain, she could see the tears in her eyes, she had also lost a bit of blood.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” she cried weakly.

“It’s ok you’ll be fine! I swear!” Revy cried out. 

She held her daughters head, looking into her eyes. Bullets were still kicking up the dirt around her. 

“You’ll be fine!” Revy sobbed. 

She held her daughter close, hoping to shield her from the bullets. Her main priority was protecting her daughter. She was about to make a run for it, when she felt a bullet drive into her back. Her body jerked as it tore through muscle, bone. It knocked the wind out of her. At that moment she dropped her daughter but quickly recovered, coughing up blood and trying to inhale oxygen, which cut her throat like glass and grabbed her. She looked at her daughter, and was mortified. The bullet had gone through Revy, and had gone through her daughters eye socket, right to the brain. Revy felt something sticky and wet on her hand behind her daughter's head. She held out her hand, and saw something pink. It was her brains Her daughter's brains just came out into her hands. Every part of Revy seemed to stop working. Her whole body just switched off, but she was still conscious. She was still conscious, but felt nothing. Even when another round tore through her side, she felt nothing. She collapsed, but held her dead daughter. She looked to the left and saw Rocks lifeless body. Using her last strength, she reached out and held his hand. It was cold, and defunct. She looked up at the sky. 

“Please….let me die..” she begged hoarsely. 

The gunshots finally stopped, there was only silence. 

It was a beautiful day.

Revy closed her eyes, hoping to see her family soon.


	2. Ain't No Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people are just hard to kill

_ Some people say a man is made out of mud, a poor mans made out of muscle and blood, muscle and blood and skin and bones, a mind that’s weak and a back that’s strong _

_ Sixteen Tons _

_ -Tennessee Ernie Ford _

  
  


“What the fuck happend?” Dutch growled.

He and Benny had been drinking at the Yellow Flag when they got the call. Revy, Rock, and their daughter had been gunned down in the park. They rushed quickly to the hospital, probably breaking a few traffic laws but they didn’t care. Not like the police gave a shit. 

“Look, you want the details about the shooting, talk to the police,” the doctor said. “But I can only give you the medical breakdown.”

“Then tell us,” Dutch growled. 

The doctor took a deep breath and pointed to the X rays. 

“You see here?” she pointed. “This is your friend Revy’s. She was hit with a 9 millimeter, it bounced off her rib and grazed her lung, puncturing.”

She moved onto the next x-ray. 

“Then, she got hit again with another 9 millimeter, she is thankful it didn’t hit anything too important,” she explained. “But it went right through her and out the other end. Clean gunshot wound.”

“Wasn’t there a .45 at the crime scene,” asked Dutch. 

“Yes, and your friend was lucky to only take a shot to the side with it,” the doctor explained. “It was enough to take her down, but it missed her kidneys, which was lucky.”

“And what about Rock and Hope?” interjected Benny.

The doctor lowered her head.

“Rokuro Okajima took a direct hit to the head with a .45 ACP round, he died instantly,” she said softly. “Hope…..”

She choked on her words, trying to keep down a sob.

“She...got shot in the back with a .45,” she sobbed. “It went into her stomach area, but she would have lived.”

“Would have?” Dutch inquired. 

The doctor muffled a sob and looked at Dutch.

“The bullet that went through Revy went through her daughter's eye socket, and out the back of her head, finishing her off,” she sobbed.

Dutch couldn’t believe it, neither could Benny. They had known Rock for years, and Hope had been a spark of joy for the Lagoon Company. She called Dutch ‘uncle’ and Benny ‘Benny-boy’ (Benny swore Dutch paid her to call him that). To find them taken from them, to be shot like dogs, it was….horrifying. 

“Is Revy awake?” asked Dutch.

“She’s been awake for the past three hours, but she hasn’t said a thing, she’s only been staring at the wall,” the doctor said. 

“She accepting visitors?” Benny asked.

“She hasn’t said no to anything,” the doctor replied. “But maybe seeing a familiar face could help.”

The doctor showed them into the room, there she was. Revy was on the hospital bed, bandaged up, but alive and breathing. However, there was something off about her. Even when Dutch and Benny announced their presence, Revy didn’t even notice them. She kept staring at the wall. She made no expression at all. There was no tears, no anger, just the look of a broken person. 

“Revy, we...we heard the news,” Benny said.

Revy didn’t respond, she continued to stare at the wall ahead. 

“It’s horrifying what happened,” Dutch said. 

Revy continued staring ahead. She wasn’t there, her mind was somewhere else. 

“They said your well enough to leave, we can drive you,” Benny said. 

Finally, Revy’s eyes moved. Her stare was directed at the doctor. The doctor gulped, it felt like Revy was staring into her soul.

“Show me them,” Revy ordered hoarsely.

“What..what..?” the doctor stammered.

“Show me my family,” Revy growled.

The doctor opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was frightened, she knew the reputation of Revy “Two-Hands” Lee. She did not want to do anything else that would risk her safety. Revy’s eyes furrowed, she was not going to take no for an answer. The doctor motioned for her to follow her. Revy started moving out of bed. She put her feet on the ground, she felt a little weak. She nearly fell, catching herself before she could. Dutch started coming over to help her, but Revy held up a hand. Revy grabbed a cane, and propped herself up. She started moving, following the doctor. The doctor was terrified, because this person was like a stack of dynamite, she was afraid that anything could light the fuse, and god help anyone when the fuze reached the end.

******

Revy looked at the two bodies in the morgue. They were covered in a white sheet, but Revy knew who was who from the shape. She reached for the sheet, she had to see. The doctor tried to speak up, but Dutch gently grabbed her shoulder and shook his head. Revy’s hand approached closer to the white sheet for the first person. She touched the sheet, but hesitated. She knew what to expect under there, it was only going to lead to pain. But she had to, she had to see what they did. She pulled back the sheet, revealing her husband. 

He was pale, and cold. He looked good though, they had patched up the hole in his head fairly well. He looked like he was sleeping, his eyes shut. Rock hadn’t suffered at all, he was dead the moment that .45 ACP round went through his skull. He looked at peace, like all his suffering, his hardships, and his trauma were now over. Revy closed her eyes, and pushed down any feelings that were bubbling up. She turned her eyes towards the next sheet. She knew her daughter was under there. She reached out. 

“Uh, I wouldn’t…” the doctor started, but Revy shot her a look, and the doctor shut their mouth and faded into the dark.

Revy didn’t hesitate this time, she knew she had to get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid. She pulled back the sheet, revealing her daughter. A pain shot through her heart, like someone fired a .44 into it. Her daughter was missing an eye. The memory of holding her dead daughter in her arms flashed through her mind. Revy gritted her teeth, trying to suppress any emotions. Dutch could tell that she needed time alone and motioned for Benny and the doctor to leave. They exited quickly, leaving Revy alone with the dead. She stared at her daughter, Hope. She looked peaceful, like she was sleeping. Secretly, Revy hoped that this was just some cruel joke that they would wake up. She would be pissed, have a laugh, then go home. She would kiss Rock, and tuck Hope in, maybe read her a story. Then they would continue living their life. But Revy knew this wasn’t a fairytale. Her family was dead, they were shot down like common street filth. Revy could feel the emotions burning inside of her, they were tearing her heart apart. She fell to one knee, biting down hard on her teeth. She held her daughter's cold hand, she held her husband's cold hand, she held them tight. She didn’t want to let go. She stared at the floor, thinking, thinking how she could have saved them. If she said no to going to park they would be alive. If they chose a different hill, they would have been alive. If she was carrying her Berettas, maybe she could have shot those fuckers, then her family would be alive. As she dwelled on the past, a fuse was lit inside of her. It was slowly creeping to the powder keg of emotions that were piled high.

  
  



	3. Welcome Home

_ God gave me that girl to lean on, then he put me on my own. Heaven help me be a man, and have the strength to stand alone. I don’t like it but I guess things happen that way. _

_ Guess Things Happen That Way _

_ -Johnny Cash _

Dutch and Benny drove Revy home, she sat in silence the entire way. When they got to her house, Dutch asked if she needed anything. Revy didn’t say anything, but she gave him a thumbs up to let them know she was fine. Even though they knew that she wasn’t fine, they didn’t want to push their luck. 

“Revy, we are here for you if you need anything,” Dutch called as Revy entered her house. 

Revy entered her house and heard them drive off. She stood in the hallway. She half expected her daughter to come around the corner, Rock would follow. But she knew where they were, in the morgue, dead. She walked through the hall. She felt like an alien on another planet. With it being empty, it felt foreign. She walked through her empty house in silence. She didn’t know what to think or even do. She was...alone. 

Revy decided to hit the shower. Normally a nice hot shower took pressure off her after a mission with the Lagoon Company. Back in those days, aside from the drinking and smoking, a shower was what she looked forward too. Except this time, all she wanted was to feel something. She wanted to feel warm. She undressed and got in the shower, letting the hot water envelop her. She felt the heat, but still felt empty, there, she started to think, to dwell.

The fuse was getting closer to the keg. Every step, every sight, made it burn faster, and brighter. 

****

_ “Revy? You ok?” Rock said from the other side of the door.  _

_ Revy sat there in the bathroom, holding the pregnancy tester. She had already been feeling strange, with the morning sickness, and cramps, she hoped that what she thought wasn’t happening wasn’t happening. Sure enough, the test revealed a plus, she was pregnant. She was terrified! And now Rock was right outside the door. She was panicking! _

_ “I’m fine!” she yelled as she tried to hide the test. _

_ “You’re pregnant aren’t you?” Rock said.  _

_ Revy tensed up, how did he know? She shuffled to the door and opened it, revealing Rocks' grinning face. _

_ “How did you know?” she asked, dismayed.  _

_ “I didn’t, but now I know,” he smirked.  _

_ Revy slugged him in the arm while he laughed. She then took off into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. She was petrified. She couldn’t be a mother, she was not mother material. Rock came in and sat down next to her. He held her hand and looked at her eyes. She stared back at him. Rock could tell she was terrified.  _

_ “Revy, I’ll be here every step of the way,” he assured. “I won’t abandon you, you will be a great mother.” _

_ She smiled, if she was going to be a mother, she was glad Rock was the father.  _

*****

Revy had spent the last 20 minutes looking at herself in the mirror after her shower. She didn’t recognize herself. She looked dead, alive, but dead like some unholy abomination. She touched the scars from the ambush. She felt the one on her chest, the very one that killed her daughter. It stung when she touched it. But it wasn’t physical pain, it was emotional pain. She remembered how the bullet ripped through her and her daughter's skill. She shuddered. She felt the wound on her side. It had healed well, but it was going to leave a mark. The doctor said the .45 had ripped through her side, but missed anything vital. She was lucky, she said. When they told her that, she wanted to gouge that bitches eyes out. Her lifeless husband and daughter were sitting on a cold table, she would never be able to do anything with them again. The man who loved her, the daughter who gave her a reason to change her perspective on life, were gone. And this doctor had the audacity to say she was lucky? 

She got dressed and continued her journey through her house. She could hear everything as she walked through it. Every creak, every shift in the floorboard, every shuffle on the carpet. She wandered aimlessly, until she stopped and looked where she was at. Her eyes went wide. Her mind must have been on autopilot, because it was the last place she wanted to be. The door had a large monarch butterfly on it, hand drawn.

Hopes Room 

Autopilot was still in control of her as she reached her hand towards the door. She tried to stop herself, but she couldn’t. There was still the slightest thought in her brain that maybe this was a nightmare, she was sleepwalking. She would open the door and see her daughter sleeping, not an empty room. She held back any emotions, any doubt as she turned the handle

The fuse was now getting closer to the keg. 

****

_ “Is everything ok?” Revy asked.  _

_ It was 2 in the morning and Revy was responding to her daughter's cries in the night. She had been having a good dream when her daughter started screaming. Instinctively, Revy grabbed her pistol and rushed to her daughters room. She discovered that her daughter was fine and was alone in her room, crying.  _

_ “What’s the matter, Hope?” she asked.  _

_ “I had a nightmare,” Hope sobbed.  _

_ Revy sighed, this was happening too much lately. Normally they would give her the same story that it wasn’t real and to go back to sleep, but this time Revy wanted to put an end to it. She sat down next to her daughter. _

_ “What was your nightmare?” she asked groggily. _

_ “Well….. I keep having a dream about a monster,” Hope sobbed. “And he keeps chasing me, like he’s trying to take me to a lair, and when he can’t find me….he takes my parents.” _

_ Revy looked at her daughter, her daughter wasn’t just afraid for her life, but her parents' lives as well. Revy had only been afraid once, and that was when she got arrested by the NYPD. After what happened then, she never was afraid again, instead she got angry. However, she was a mother now, she had a scared child and she needed to help her. One thing that made her less afraid in the world, was her guns. They got rid of all the evil. However, she couldn’t just give a child a gun. Not smart. She had an idea.  _

_ “Wait here,” she told her daughter.  _

_ Revy left and then returned with a shirt. _

_ “I have a gift for you,” she said.  _

_ She handed the shirt to her daughter and her daughter looked at it. It was a black shirt, with a white skull on it. It looked menacing. Her daughter was confused by it, what was it for. Revy could tell. _

_ “I got this shirt for you to help ward off your nightmares,” Revy explained. _

_ “How does it do that?” Hope asked.  _

_ “You see the skull?” Revy asked. “The skull wards off the nightmares and bad spirits, that’s what this magic man told me when I bought it.”  _

_ “It does?” Hope asked trustfully. _

_ “Yes, yes it does, it’ll keep all the evil spirits and nightmares away,” Revy said confidently. _

__

_ Her daughter seemed satisfied with that answer. She quickly put the shirt on, she displayed her shirt to her mother.  _

_ “Thank you mommy!” she said ecstatically.  _

_ She patted her daughter's head. _

_ “I have to make sure my daughter can sleep at night,” she replied.  _

_ It seemed Hope was ready for bed, but she then looked at her mother. _

_ “Will you stay the rest of the night with me, just in case?” Hope asked.  _

_ “Of course I will,” Revy said softly.  _

_ She kissed her daughter on her head and tucked her in. Her daughter curled up with her stuffed butterfly. Revy watched her as she drifted off to bed. She meant it when she said she would be meaner to anyone that hurt her daughter. She was protective. She wanted her daughter to be strong, but she wanted her to not end up completely like her. That shirt was something she got years ago at a vendor. The vendor told her that it would ward off evil spirits, like a good luck charm. Chances are it was just a pitch to sell it, but it looked cool. Now it was serving a purpose, to help her daughter sleep. When she gazed into her daughter's eyes, she saw her innocence. She might have been afraid and was her daughter, but she was innocent. She wanted her to stay that way. The hard life Revy had in the past, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone her daughter. As long as she didn’t grow up to be like her, she would have a happy life. She stayed with her the rest of the night, watching over her.  _

****

She stood in her daughters room, it was empty. She could see her daughters clothes, toys, drawings, and she thought she could smell her scent. But she knew she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t playing with her toys, she wasn’t hiding, she was dead. It was the hard truth. She turned away, trying to keep her emotions contained. 

The fuse was now mere inches from the keg, and it was a massive powder keg of emotions just waiting to go off. 

*****

_ Revy was eating oatmeal for breakfast with Hope, reading a magazine when Rock came in with a big smile on his face. _

_ “What are you smiling about?” asked Revy. _

_ “I got a couple weeks off!” Rock said excitedly.  _

_ Revy and Hope were excited! While Rocks' job had good hours, which gave him plenty of time to spend with Hope, this vacation from work is what the family needed.  _

_ “How did you manage to get that?” asked Revy. _

_ “Balalaika and Chang liked my work ethic and how great of a job I did covering their finances that they thought I earned a two weeks off,” Rock said proudly.  _

_ “Does that mean we can play all day?” asked Hope. _

_ Rock patted her head. _

_ “Of course it does, we can play all day!” he said.  _

_ For the next week they saw movies, played games, read, everything. They spent time with one another like a family. On Saturday after enjoying a movie marathon at home, they were getting ready when Rock pitched an idea.  _

_ “How about we have a picnic tomorrow?” he suggested. “The parks are a lot better now that the police started keeping the junkies out. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day.” _

_ “What would you say to that Hope?” asked Revy. _

_ “Could I catch butterflies?” asked Hope excitedly. _

_ “Of course you can, you catch as many as you want!” exclaimed Revy. _

_ Hope celebrated! She loved catching butterflies. After tucking her in, Revy and Rock went to bed.  _

_ “Is it going to be a beautiful day tomorrow?” asked Revy. _

_ “Not as beautiful as you,” Rock said sheepishly.  _

_ Revy chuckled and kissed Rock. She then kissed him again, then again. Rock slowly put his hands down her sweats, past her panties, and started to rub her snatch. He started slow, teasing it, making Revy cry softly with pleasure. He could feel her getting wetter as he continued. Revy gasped with ecstasy. She looked at him with lust in hs eyes.  _

_ “Can you keep it down?” asked Revy. _

_ “Of course,” said Rock.  _

_ Revy slipped off Rock’s boxers and Rock did they same with her. They kissed aggressively as Revy spread her legs for Rock as he put his member in between her legs. He thrusted slowly, trying not to make too much noise. Revy moaned softly and dug her nails into his back. They intertwined lips and tongue as he continued to thrust. Every thrust made her feel like she was paradise. She could feel his breath on her skin, it cooled it as their act of sexual pleasure heated their bodies up. She felt something boiling inside of her as he continued. Her pleasure was building inside of her.  _

_ “Keep going!” she gasped softly. “I’m almost there!” _

_ “Me too!” he grunted.  _

_ She was about to cum when he interlocked his lips with hers, to help muffle her moans. She held him tighter as he finished. They panted, they hadn’t had sex like that in a long time, not since Hope was born. Revy couldn’t wait for the morning. It had been a long time since they had a picnic, they always had great memories in the past having a picnic.  _

_ “Make sure you remember the camera,” Revy noted. _

_ “I will,” Rock replied.  _

******

Revy sat at the dinner table, alone. She looked to where her family would normally sit. They were empty. There was no talking, no giggling, just silence. Revy hated it. 

“You couldn’t let me be happy,” she said out loud. “I bet this is some game for you! Watching as a young girl is beaten and abused by her father! Letting her get raped, watching as the innocence is drained from her! Watching as the last light of hope gets snuffed out while she cries herself to sleep. Watching her kill the memories with violence and alcohol! I’ll bet you enjoyed watching me suffer! You loved turning me into a killer! I’ll bet you enjoy tormenting me! Then….you had Rock come into my life…..and Hope….and you just couldn’t let me be happy, you couldn’t let your source of entertainment be happy…..you….you...you….”

Revy couldn’t think of anything else. Her mind was becoming clogged with rage, and anger. She couldn’t even conjugate a full sentence. All she saw was red. She was angry, all the emotions she had been piling up, were about to explode. God, or whatever cruel diedy had decided that her happiness was merely facade, that it was meant to be taken away.

The fuse finally had set off the powder keg of emotion that had building up. Enough to tear a hole in a battleship. 

“BRING THEM BACK!!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

In a fit of rage, Revy flipped over the table. It crashed into the ground. She started kicking it, her foot breaking the legs and the top. Over and over, she bashed the table in She didn’t stop until it was a pile of firewood. 

“BRING THEM BACK!!”

She grabbed a chair and smashed it into the ground, sending splinters everywhere. She grabbed another chair and threw it against the wall, it shattered into pieces. She was breathing hard, she didn’t want to stop! Anger had taken over. 

“BRING THEM BACK YOU FUCKER!!!”

Revy ripped off the cabinet doors in the kitchen, she punched the doors, then hit them with pieces of the chair. She was furious! She wanted to destroy everything! Why couldn’t she just have one good thing in her life?

“BRING THEM BACK!!!”

She continued yelling that phrase as she threw glasses and plates against the wall. As she punched holes in the drywall, as she broke everything she could find. Her happiness was gone, fate once more had decided to pull the rug right out from under her. After a while, the anger faded, and was replaced by something far worse: grief. 

Her screams of rage turned to sobs. She broke down, the rage had passed, and reality caught up to her. They weren’t coming back. She sobbed. She started walking to her daughters room. There she felt closer to her deceased daughter. She collapsed into her bed, tears streaming down her face. She continued sobbing. She missed them, she wanted them back. She wanted her man. She wanted to feel his kisses, his touch. She wanted to see her daughter's smiling face. She wanted to look into those eyes and see her innocence. She wanted to hold her, comfort her. She wanted….to feel.

“Bring them back,” she sobbed.

*****

No one had seen Revy for a month. The last time anyone saw her was at the funeral. Rock and Hope were buried in the Roanapur graveyard. The funeral was short, no after party, no one said anything. They were buried and Revy took off. Dutch, Benny, Balalaika, Chang, Bao, Eda, Shenhua, Sawyer, and even Lotton the Wizard showed up. Most had plenty to say about Rock, Ducth and Benny said a few words to say about Hope. After that, everyone went back to doing what they did.

Eda though, had something to give Revy. She learned from Bao that she was held up in her house. She ordered bottles of hard liquor like whisky and vodka from the Yellow Flag, which were delivered. The first two were in the house, but the rest she had to pay for. She approached the house, it was quiet. She couldn’t hear anything. She thought about knocking, but knew that she wouldn’t answer anyways. She jiggled the door, it was locked. She used a lock pick to open it. She prayed that Revy wouldn’t shoot through the door. The door unlocked and she opened it slowly. She could hear a faint noise in the living room. She walked through the hall slowly, trying not to make a sound. She peered around the corner and saw the destroyed kitchen. 

“Jesus christ,” she thought. 

It was as if a tornado came through it. Eda was afraid to see what Revy looked like. She peered and saw Revy sitting in a chair in the living room. It was dark in the house though she didn’t see Eda. She approached her slowly. She could see that Revy was sobbing and had a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. She was watching something on the TV. Eda craned her neck to see what she was watching and saw Rock and Hope on the TV. Revy was watching home movies. Revy took a swig of the alcohol and continued watching, tears streaming down her face. As Eda made her way to the living room, she heard the floorboard creak underneath her. 

“Shit,” she thought. 

That snapped Revy out of her trance and she pointed her Beretta towards the sound. Eda sighed and put her hands over her head, and walked into the light, exposing herself to Revy.

“Leave,” Revy threatened.

“Revy…” she said.

Revy cocked her gun. Her eyes were glazed over, with grief, and anger. 

“Leave,” Revy threatened.

Eda knew when she wasn’t welcome. She calmly pulled out a file and set it down on a coffee table. She started walking backwards, hands over her head. She then disappeared into the darkness.

“Come find me if you need help, or when you are done,” she said through the dark. 

Revy kept her gun trained on the corner until she was sure Eda left. She then turned her attention to the file. What was it? She grabbed the file and opened it. She started reading it. As she read it, she could feel her pain going away, and instead being replaced with anger. Not just any anger, pure anger. Anger that is so pure, that only the deep firey depths of hell, in the searing pit of revenge could make. The type of anger and rage that was found in the seven layers of hell in  _ Dante’s Inferno _ . The type of anger that sobers someone up get them thinking clearly. 

Something had been awakened in Revy, something she thought she buried a long time ago

All Revy knew was that a lot of fucks were going to die. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone caught the reference to the punisher movie, pat yourself on the back.


	4. First Blood

_ You wired me awake and hit me with the hand of broken nails. You tied my lead and pulled my chain to watch my blood begin to boil. But I’m going to break, going to break my, going to break my rusty cage and run. _

_ Rusty Cage _

_ -Johnny Cash _

  
  


“Another Bao,” ordered Enzo Drago.

“Fine, fine, just don’t shoot up the bar ok?” said Bao. “.45 rounds are a lot harder to patch than 9 millimeter.

“You can afford it,” Drago responded. 

Enzo Drago or “Drum Mag Drago” is an Italian hitman. A man slightly on the heavy side, but he didn’t earn the nickname for his belly. He earned the name because his preferred weapon of choice, a Thompson M1928A1 Thompson with a 50 round drum magazine. The Thompson had been a favorite of the Italians during the time of the prohibition, they really liked the stopping power the .45 ACP with a 50-100 round drum, combined with an 800rpm firing rate, it gave any mug the necessary fire power to turn the tide of any fight. Drago was a guy who loved the Thompson. It was accurate, it was powerful, and he knew that when those .45 ACP rounds connected with any living thing, they wouldn’t be walking away from it. He had done lots of hits with his gun, all successful. Everytime the wiseguys needed someone whacked and they wanted to really make sure they were dead, they would call Drago. 

Tonight, Enzo Drago was celebrating. He got paid double his usual amount, despite missing his target. He was cursing himself for failing to kill that fucker. The Italian paid him well though, he said it still worked out for him in regards. Drago didn’t ask why, he just took his money to celebrate. No skin off his nose.

“Besides,” he sneered as he patted his violin case. “I only bring this out if you pay me.” 

Bao groaned and went back to serving other patrons. Drago cursed at that bartender. This bar was getting shot up all the time, a bartender like that should expect it. He got up because he had to take a piss. He brought along his violin case, couldn’t risk having it go missing. He stumbled out into an alley. He unzipped his pants and squeezed the lemon. A good piss while drinking felt relaxing. It made more room for drinking. He was just about done when he felt a pain in his neck. He grabbed his neck and looked frantically around. Something was just jabbed into his neck. His vision started fading quickly. He dropped to his knees, but before he blacked out he saw a figure in a trench coat and with a skull face. Looks like the Grim Reaper came to collect. 

****

Drago’s eyes opened and he looked around. He didn’t know where he was, but it looked like a basement. He tried to move, but found himself chained to a chair. He was not only handcuffed, but whoever got him also duct taped his arms down, and they duct taped his legs to the chair as well. His head was also restrained, he couldn’t move it. He gulped, who the fuck is doing this?

“Enzo Drago,” said a feminine voice in the dark. “Also known as “Drum Mag Drago” because you always use a Tommy gun with a drum magazine for your jobs.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Drago called. 

No response.

“Show yourself!” he yelled.

A figure emerged from the darkness, and Drago was terrified. The figure was slender, but in great shape. He could see tribal tattoos on her. But what terrified him was what she was wearing. She was black shirt, with a skull on it that seemed to burn a hole into his brain. She also was wearing a black trench coat. She was wearing a ski mask, but it had a skull crudely painted on it. He could see her eyes though, and they were burning. She approached him, and stared at him. She pulled out a photo and held it in front of Drago. The man in the photo was Asian with black hair, he was also wearing a white button up shirt, he looked like an average everyman. Couldn’t tell what Asian nationality he was, then again to him they all looked the same. 

“Do you recognize this man?” she asked with a hint of resentment in her tone.

“No,” replied Drago. “Should I?”

The lady swiftly grabbed his pinky finger on his right hand and pulled it back with a snap. Drago screamed in pain. The lady continued moving it around and around like a joystick, sending more pain up his arm.

“Fuck you!!!” he wailed.

She then grabbed his index finger on the same hand and pulled it back. He screamed again as it snapped like a kit kat. But she wasn’t done. She grabbed the middle phalanx of the already broken finger and pulled it, nearly snapping it off. He howled in pain!

“You bitch that’s my trigger finger,” he wailed.

She ignored him and pulled out another picture. This one was of a little girl. She was Asian as well, no older than five. She had dark hair as well. She was smiling too. 

“Do you recognize this girl?” asked the figure. 

“Fuck you!” Drago groaned. 

The lady this time pulled out a hammer, she grabbed his left hand and held it over a wooden table. She flipped it over, with the palm facing out. She then pulled out a nail. Drago’s eyes went wide and he tried to struggle, but he couldn’t move his arm at all.

“No! Wait!” he screamed.

The lady held the nail over his hand, she kept the hand in place from moving by resting her arm on his wrist. She held the nail in place, then brought the hammer down. The nail went right through his hand. He squealed like a pig. He couldn’t move his hand, it was stuck in place. She brought it down again and again, until it was in there deep. 

“Jesus christ what do you want?” Drago bawled. 

The lady kneeled down to where she was at his height. She stared at him, he could see the hate in her eyes. The lady in turn could see the fear in his.

“Here’s a question for you,” she said.

She pulled off her mask, revealing herself to Drago.

“Do you recognize me?” asked Revy.

Drago looked at the girl, and his face turned white. He recognized that face, because it was the face of that mother who he shot when he was doing that job in the park. He could not forget the look on her face when she was holding that little girl in her arms. The look she gave on that day was the type of look soldiers would see after they killed a mother's son, it was the look of a broken parent, who had everything, and lost it. The image of that mother only haunted him briefly, but bystander deaths came with the jobs, what could he do about it?

“You...you….” he stuttered. 

“Do you know who I am?” she asked. 

“No….I just know you from….” he trailed off in fear.

“Then allow me to introduce myself: Revy ‘Two-Hands’ Lee,” she said.

Drago’s face turned even whiter. He had heard of this woman, but she was out of the game for a long time. She stopped after she had a….

“Oh no,” he whimpered.

“Oh no indeed,” Revy snarled. 

“Look….you don’t need to do this!” Drago begged. “I’m sorry!” 

Revy looked at him with her cold eyes. Drago saw it, he knew that there was no way he would survive this.

“Now, you answer this next question, and you better tell the truth,” she threatened. “Why?”

Drago gulped, he didn’t know what she wanted, but he was afraid to ask.

“Why what?” he whimpered.

“Why did you and your friends try to kill me?” Revy growled. 

“You...you weren’t the target,” Drago stammered. 

Revy back handed him with rage. 

“Liar!” she screamed. 

She then pulled a flip knife, one that most workers or hunters had on them for either cutting wire or even gutting fish. It was common among thieves as well. Revy then rammed a gag into his mouth. Drago tried to say something but it was muffled. Revy then took the knife and started making straight incisions inside the palm of the hand, up his fingers, all around the hand. Drago made a muffled whimper. It hurt yes, but he didn’t know what was coming next. Revy reached into a bag, and pulled out a container of salt. Just average table salt, salt that was used for cooking. Drago didn’t know what she was going to do with that, but he didn’t want to know. He tried to beg, but his cries were muffled by the gag. He tried to look into her eyes and plead with her, but all he saw in he eyes were murder. She held the container over his hand, then started pouring on the wounds. A pain shot up through his arm as the salt touched the open wound. His body thrashed as she poured all up and down the wounds. He tried to get the salt off by moving his hand, but it had seeped through the blood, into the wound, festering. Revy begin rubbing the salt into the wound, which made it hurt even worse. It was as if someone was slowly grating off his skin. Revy finally set the salt down. She got close to him, Drago could feel her staring into his soul, ripping it apart with her eyes. 

“I got nowhere to go, so I can do this all night if I have to,” she growled. “Now you're going to be honest!”

Revy knew that maybe this hitman knew more than he did. While it did catch her off guard that she wasn’t the target, but a show of force would show this fucker that she wasn’t to be trifled with. She took the gag out his mouth and he continued sobbing. 

“You weren’t the target,” he sobbed. “I swear you weren’t.”

“Then who was?” growled Revy.

“It was Ronnie ‘The Jaws’” he whimpered. 

That took Revy by surprise. Drago was an Italian hitman, why was he trying to kill the boss?

“So Ronnie was at the park?” she asked.

“Yes! I was hired to kill him,” Drago sobbed. 

“By who?” Revy asked. 

“Francesco,” he revealed weakly. “Francesco Apstolo.”

While Revy hadn’t been involved in the criminal underworld for five years, she knew that name. People talked. He was Ronnie’s lieutenant, ran the gambling and drug dens west in the Italian territory. He helped increase the Italians profit margins.

“Bullshit,” Revy rumbled. 

“No I swear!” Drago said hastily. “Francesco called me up and said he wanted Ronnie taken out, didn’t explain why, just said there would be a decent amount of money for me if I succeeded!”

“Last I checked, Ronnie was still alive,” Revy said. 

“Of course I fuckin know that!” Drago cried. “The sun was in my fucking eyes After I emptied my gun, I took off. I was planning when to whack him again, then Francesco called me up and told me I didn’t have to worry about finishing the job, in fact he paid me double for the failed job.”

“Was there anyone else working with you for the hit?” she asked aggressively.

“No! Just me!” Drago cried.

“Then who else was firing?” she asked.

“His fucking body guards!” Drago said. “He brought along like five of them, they drove me away!”

“Then why the fuck did Francesco pay you double?” interrogated Revy.

“I don’t know!” cried Drago. 

He could see Revy looking towards her bag.

“I swear!” cried Drago. “I don’t ask too many questions! You could ask him yourself! H In fact, he’s celebrating the successful hit this Friday! I was invited!”

Revy paused for a moment. Like she was thinking.

“So...I wasn’t even the target, my family and I were just innocent bystanders in the wrong place and the wrong time?” she said with a hint of rage. 

Drago gulped, he didn’t even say anything. It wasn’t uncommon for innocents to get caught in the crossfire of gang wars and hits. Ronnie had accidentally clipped a few innocents now and then. However, normally the innocents that got killed were junkies or whores, not people capable of revenge. 

“I thought I killed my family, but….” she trailed off. 

Revy looked Drago, and Drago shuddered. He could see the hatred in her eyes, like hell itself was contained in those eyes. She drew her Beretta and pointed it at him.

“Wait no! Don’t do this! I’ll do anything!” pleaded Drago. 

Revy paused for a moment, not lowering the gun, but keeping it trained on him.

“Can you bring back my family?” she asked.

Drago’s mouth closed, and he lowered his head, she was dead serious. He knew he couldn’t bargain his way out of a situation. Especially in this instance. He started muttering a prayer, begging for forgiveness. 

“That’s what I thought.”

BLAM!!

The 9 millimeter hollow point round ripped through Drago’s skull. It exploded inside of him, sending his brains all over the wall behind him. Revy stood there, looking at the corpse. A thought dawned on her. That was the first time she killed someone in five years. And….she liked it. She enjoyed killing in the past, but this...it felt different. How many innocents had been killed by this man? How many people had he crippled? He wouldn’t be doing any of that anymore. She punished him...and she liked it. She looked at the violin case Drago had. There was the Thompson, the Thompson that killed her family. She picked it up and held it. It felt powerful in her hands. It would be a shame to destroy it. A gun capable of spitting .45 ACP rounds at 800 rounds per minute would give her an edge on her quest. She would use the very gun used to harm innocents, to punish them. She would need some more ammo, she would give Eda a call. But first, the body. If Drago’s body turned up, it could jeopardize her quest. Francesco might know she is coming or at least become more aware. She took out her phone, and placed a call.

“I need a clean up,” she said to the person on the other end. “I trust you to do this job.”

The person on the other end agreed and Revy gave them the address. She then waited. 

****

A van pulled up 15 minutes later, emerging from it were two women. One was wearing a flowery asiab dress with a white silk coat, while another emerged wearing dark clothes. It was two of Roanapurs deadliest assassins, and cleaners: Sawyer and Shenhua. Sawyer worked for the Hong Kong Triad as a cleaner, though she occasionally got her hands dirty with a chainsaw as her primary weapon. Shenhua was an assassin, skilled with bladed weapons. She accompanied Sawyer on the occasional clean up mission, which normally saw them hacking up bodies into pieces so they couldn’t be found. They would either be mixed in with the meat at Sawyers meat plant, U.G. Pork, or dumped in the ocean for the sharks. They were some of the best cleaners and assassins in Roanapur. 

However, this job was a hush hush job, not even the Triads knew about this job. Shenhua was at home while Lotton and Sawyer were playing video games when she got a call on her phone. When she answered, it was the last person she thought she would hear from: Revy. Revy said she needed a clean up, and gave them the address. What shocked Shenhua was when Revy said that she trusted her. Both had tried to kill one another at least a couple of times, with Revy actually shooting Shenhua during the whole “Greenback Jane” incident, however they had worked together on a few jobs. In fact, they even worked together when Roberta the Maid came back to Roanapur. She didn’t think Revy saw her as a friend, more of an acquaintance. When she got the call, she rallied Sawyer and Lotton to the area. Lotton was more of the driver, he really didn’t help chop up the bodies like Sawyer and Shenhua did. 

“Twinkie! You here?” Shenhua called.

They looked around the dark alley but didn’t see anyone. 

“You sure it was her?” asked Sawyer.

“Positive, I recognize voice,” she replied. 

They heard a noise in the alley and turned, weapons ready. A figure slowly emerged from the shadows, it was Revy, though her appearance sent a shiver down their spines. Revy didn’t look like Revy. She was wearing a black shirt large white skull on it, it was well drawn.. It looked menacing, like it was ready to attack. Revy on the other hand, looked like Revy, but something was off about her. Normally she would have a malicious grin, which was usual after doing some killing. However, her expression looked hollow, like she had been through all seven levels of hell. Shenhua wanted to say something, it had been a month and she finally made an appearance. However, she was terrified. She hadn’t been that scared since Roberta the maid destroyed her kukri with her teeth, and nearly killed her. Even Sawyer was scared. 

“Hey is that her?” asked Lotton from the van. 

Revy glanced at Lotton, who decided to stay in the van and not say anything for the rest of the night. Revy then motioned to them to follow her. Sawyer and Shenhua obliged. Silently she led them to a door. She opened slowly revealing Dragos corpse. 

“Holy shit,” Sawyer exclaimed.

“That ‘Drum Mag’ Drago?” asked Shenhua shocked.

Revy nodded. 

“Did he……?” Shenhua started to ask.

Revy didn’t say anything, but nodded. 

“So he deserved it,” Sawyer said.

Revy still didn’t say anything, but held out a wad of bills to pay for the job. Sawyer shook her head. 

“This ones on the house,” Sawyer replied. 

Revy still held out the money, she still didn’t say anything, she wasn’t begging or urging them too take it, however from the look on her face, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Sawyer reached for the money, her hands shaking. She took it, handed it to Shenhua, then went to inspect the body.

“She cut body good, no one will find this Dago,” Shenhua said. 

Revy nodded and then turned to walk away. 

“Revy!” Shenhua blurted out.

Revy looked over her shoulder at her. 

“I sorry about Rock, he was good man,” Shenhua said sadly. “Probably best man in city. And, sorry about your daughter.”

Revy wiped her eyes, tears started form up in her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked at Shenhua. 

“Thank you,” Revy said. 

She then turned and left the scene. Shenhua watched as she left, she felt bad for Revy. Revy loved Rock, and her daughter. She had seen them together around town at times. Revy introduced her to Hope, and Hope took a liking to Shenhua. Hope was a bundle of energy, very kind. However, when she saw Revy at the funeral, Revy looked like a broken person. That she might end up biting the bullet of her own gun. However, seeing Revy now, that broken person was still in there, but something else had taken over. Something had been unleashed in Revy, something that was driving her to continue. She had a feeling that this wasn’t the first body Revy was going to be trailing behind her. 


	5. Firefight

_ I found out, the hate grow cold. God rise up, damn my soul, cause I ain’t change, change my ways. My evil ways.  _

_ Evil Ways _

_ -Blue Saranceno _

Deep in Italian town, there was an old Thai restaurant that was frequented a lot by customers. It made good pad thai and it was populated by thugs, civilians, corrupt cops, the works. The food was good, but that wasn’t the main source of income. It was a front for Francessco Apostolo. In the basement he ran a gambling ring where he made money off of suckers. It also offered customers looking to get a fix of heroine, opioids, and other drugs as well. Francessco had pitched the idea to Ronnie “The Jaws” a while ago, said it was a perfect cover. This little front had made him and the Italians a lot of money. Every Friday though, there was a high stakes poker game played in the restaurant, where criminals and thugs all around Roanapur would come to try and win some money, with Francesco at the head of the table. The buy in was about $5,000, so you had to have money to enter. Most of the criminals at the table were Italian gang members, though at times Russian Mafia goons would play, and a few people from the Triad, and of course, the Columbians. However, this Friday was different, it was all Italians, and it was close only to Francesco and his gang. Francesco was celebrating because he had gotten a promotion from Ronnie, apparently after there was an attempt on his life, Ronnie got a little paranoid and confided in Francesco. Of course he didn’t know that Francesco was the man who put the hit on him. However, Ronnie promoted Francesco, gave him a bigger slice of territory, a bigger cut of the profit, and also put him in charge of arming his guys well. It worked out well for Francesco, who had some ulterior motives. However, this promotion showed that he could still reach his goals, and not have to worry about whacking Ronnie. Right now, he was celebrating, they had pizza, beer, coke, and of course some whores would be coming pretty soon. His boys were excited to, they were thankful that they didn’t have to get involved in some coup. Right now, they were laughing, playing poker, drinking, like a bunch of hooligans. Francesco stood up for toast.

“Boys, we did it,” he annouced. “To be honest, after Drago failed I thought we were gonna have to fucking kill Ronnie ourselves, however, it all worked out.”

His men whooped, clinking glasses together. 

“Where the fuck is Drago?” he asked. “I invited him, without him this wouldn’t be possible.”

“Don’t know, maybe he’s at the Yellow Flag,” said one of his men. “He could have also gotten a room with one of those ladies up there.”

The men snickered.

“But all aside, we did it,” Francesco announced. “We have more territory, more power, and of course, the Italians will be getting a good shipment of drugs, and in exchange, our suppliers will be getting a cut of the profit, and some guns of course, which they will sell as well, and we get a cut of the profits as well. That my friends, is synergy!”

His men cheered for their leader.

“Boys, we will be rolling in dough,” Francesco announced. “And we have Drago to thank.”

His men cheered, praising him. 

“Now, I’ve got a little surprise,” he said.

He produced a bottle of champaign, expensive stuff.

“I figure it’s time we celebrate our good fortune,” he said with a smile. “This ain’t the cheap crap from the Yellow Flag. Naw, this is top shelf level booze.”

He fidgeted with the bottle, he wanted to pop the cork off like he had seen in the movies. It was harder than it looked. 

“Come on!” 

“Get it open!”

“Hold on you animals, I want to pop it!” Francesco shouted. 

He struggled, when he noticed that the bubbles were forming behind the cork. He smiled, soon they would be sipping on champagne. He angled the cork up, away from his men.

“Here we go!” he exclaimed.

The cork went flying, sending champagne foam everywhere. The men cheered. 

Suddenly, blood shot from Francesco’s chest, as the cheering was cut short by a submachine gun piercing. The men had little time to react, due to most of them being drunk or high. .45 ACP rounds tore through the cheering mens chest, throats, heads, everywhere. Some tried to pull their pistols, but were cut down before they could even draw them. In an explosion of firepower, and blood, the party was cut short. All of Francesco’s crew, all 12 of them, including Francesco, were dead. 

Revy emerged from the top of the ceiling. She had taken up position above the table an hour ago. Security was a joke. They had no guards stationed outside, no lookouts. They weren’t expecting a gunfight. She was glad that she disposed of Dragos' body, otherwise things would have been more complicated. Drago’s Tommygun had done its job well. The men weren’t even wearing kevlar, not like it mattered. The .45 ACP from the Tommy still would have done a lot of damage to them, chances are they would have been too crippled to fight back, which meant she would have to finish them off. Then again, she would not have minded unloading another 50 round drum into their corpses. She looked at the bodies, the men who had organized the hit, were dead. Francesco and his crew were dead, all in 15 seconds. They hired the man who got her family killed, all for what? Some money. Revy took out her Berettas, she started shooting the corpses in the head. Though she was positive they were all dead, she didn’t want to take the risk that one was still breathing. The men were torn up bad enough, but a 9mm hollow point round blew a big hole in all their heads. Francesco's men looked like they had just got done filming a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie, with blood, brains, and body parts splaying all over the floor, table, food, and drugs. 

While Revy was happy, she still had one more person on the list. Ronnie. His bodyguards fired back at Drago, and their crossfire got her daughter killed. They had to be punished. She then cursed herself for not keeping one alive, Francesco’s speech had intrigued her. Someone had convinced Francesco to betray Ronnie, but who? That meant there was someone else responsible for her family's death. 

Suddenly she heard what sounded like a box being dropped, to her right and she turned, where she saw a goon standing at the door shaking. 

****

_ 30 seconds before the shootout _

Mikey was pissed. He hoped that joining Francesco’s crew would get him some street cred, some cash, power, or at least help him score with the ladies. But the only thing he was getting was fucked over by Francesco. They treated him like an errand boy, sending him out to get cigarettes, food, the works. He hated it. He was better off being on the take for the NYPD

To make matters worse, when they were celebrating the promotion, they had the audacity to send him out to get more pizza for the boys. He hadn’t even taken a sip of his beer when they told him to. He grudgingly did it. Mikey still had hope that they would give him a better job in the future. He hoped he would make it back in time before the whores got there. He needed to get his dick sucked. Mikey was chewing on a slice of pizza when he got near the restaurant. He wondered why they just didn’t have Thai food, but those Italians like their pizza. He could hear their cheers, he grumbled, he missed the toast. He was about to open the door, when he heard automatic gunfire and screams come from the room. He froze, what the hell was going on in there? He wanted to enter, but a voice in his head told him not to yet. He waited until the gunfire stopped, which was over fairly quick. He waited, still frozen with fear. He was wondering if anyone was alive when he heard more gunfire, this time from a pistol. He gulped as he slowly opened the door. There he saw a masked figure, wearing a kevlar vest, she had a Tommy gun slung over her shoulder, and had two pistols drawn. The pistols were pearl handed with a nasty skull and crossbone insignia on them that glared at him like the grim reaper himself. The figure was standing over the corpses of Francesco and his crew. He hadn’t seen anything like this. In his fear, he dropped the pizzas. He wished he hadn't because the figure turned their attention to him. The sight of the person frightened him even more. The mask had a skull on it, and their shirt had a white skull on it as well. He was terrified because he was thinking he was next. Mikey was packing a gun, a SIG Sauer, but in this case he knew the only way he was getting out of this, was running. 

Mikey turned and took off down the alley. He could hear the figure chasing him. Luckily Mikey had a head start, and being an errand boy paid off since he had the stamina. He could hear their footsteps echoing through the alley. He wished he had a car, but his was in the shop, which meant he would have to get away from this person by foot. He toppled some trash cans to slow their chase. He then heard gunshots, the person was shooting at him! He ran faster. He bolted across the street to the downtown area. There it was more crowded so he could lose the person. He hoped it would work. Then as soon as he outran that fucker, he would go to Ronnie, Ronnie might know what to do. He just had to survive first.

****

Revy had been chasing that goon for awhile, but he disappeared into the crowd at night. She cursed under her breath. A good lead was lost, and she failed to hit him. She tried to aim for his legs, but this fucker was too quick. It didn’t matter though, police were already on their way, she could hear the sirens. Ronnie would hear about the shooting, and he would be out for revenge. However, Revy counted on it, though if she was going to take on Ronnies crew, she would need more than her Cutlass’s and Dragos Tommy Gun. She would need a lot more guns. She also knew she would find this bastard later, because after she was done with Ronnie, he would get out of town, and there was only one place where anyone could get out of town. 

****

“Jesus Christ,” Chief Watsup grumbled. 

He had been enjoying a nice bottle of whiskey with the boys, when he got a call about a multiple homicide in Italian territory. When he arrived at the scene, he was upset that the shooting took place at the Thai Place he liked. However, when he entered the scene he couldn’t believe his eyes. Francesco and his crew were shot to bits. He definitely knew this Thai Place wasn’t going to be reopening anytime soon. 

“What the fuck happened here?” he asked a detective. 

“Well, to put it bluntly, they are dead,” said the detective. “.45 ACP rounds tore through their bodies, they were dead before they hit the ground.”

“Jesus, did they even get a shot off?” Watsup asked.

“Nope, this was a one sided fire fight,” the detective replied. “The men weren’t expecting a gun fight at all. No one even got a shot off. It’s like one of those old spaghetti westerns, where the hero guns all the bad guys down before they can shoot.”

Watsup ignored the joke and inspected the bodies. Sure enough there wasn’t a single guy who was able to get a shot off. There was something off about it though. This didn’t seem like a typical gangland hit, this was planned. At first, he was wondering if Ballalika did something like this, since the shots came from the ceiling above. The shooter positioned themselves up there, giving them a perfect vantage point and a perfect killzone. It looked like something Ballalika would have done. However, if it were here he would be finding 5.45 x39mm rounds on the floor instead of .45 ACP rounds. Then again, they could have covered their tracks and used different calibre weapons. 

“Who do you think did this?” he asked the detective. “The Russians?”

“No sir,” replied the detective.

“The Columbians?” 

“No.”

“Triad?” 

“I don’t think this was a gangland hit.”

Watsup raised an eyebrow, that didn’t make any sense. No one just shoots up a gang for fun or the heck of it, unless you were those goddamn vampire twins. 

“What are you talking about?” Watsup inquired.

The detective pointed at the holes in Francesco’s head.

“See this?” he asked. 

Watsup nodded. 

“Francesco was already dead from the .45,” the detective explained. “This shot here was from a different calibre gun, a 9mm hollow point. This wasn’t to make sure he was dead, this was to add insult to injury.”

“What’s your point?” Watsup inquired.

The detective pointed to the other men. 

“The rest of his men were already dead, yet they too were shot in the head with the same calibre bullet, 9mm hollow point,” the detective explained. “If this was a gangland hit, they would have shot the men, then gotten out of there as quickly as possible, they wouldn’t want to risk anyone spotting them if they stuck behind to put a few more bullets in their head, The next thing is why hollow point? Most gangs don’t use hollow point rounds because there’s always a chance that some goon decides to wear kevlar, and hollow points aren’t effective against kevlar. This person wanted to literally blow a hole in their heads, as a final insult, as a way to show that these men deserved to be mutilated. This was personal.”

Watsup’s eyes went wide. 

“You saying this was a revenge hit?” Watsup asked.

“Someone wanted revenge that’s for sure,” the detective. “But we might want to consider the possibility that this could have been the work of a vigilante, since it does seem personal.”

That was the last thing Watsup wanted to hear. While Roanapur wasn’t the most peaceful city, it would be a hell of a lot worse if the gangs were fighting. If there was a vigilante roaming around Roanapur, then it would make things even worse. The detective could see Watsups' distress. 

“It’s just a theory sir,” the detective assured. 

“Keep it to yourself,” Watsup growled. 

Watsup stepped outside for smoke. He knew Ronnie would hear about the shooting and get his boys together. They would be on warparth trying to find out who took out one of his lieutenants and his crew. He only hoped that vigilante was either done and wouldn’t do anything else stupid. He would let Ballalika know, maybe they could find whoever did this. He really hoped it wasn’t a vigilante, because if it was: Roanapur was going to explode.

****

“A vigilante?” Balalaika inquired. “Are you being serious?” 

“It’s just a theory from one of my detectives,” Watsup said over the phone. “But I thought I should let you know just in case you notice anything.”

Balalaika rolled her eyes, there was no way he was for real.

“While it is highly unlikely, I will keep my eyes open,” she replied.

She hung up and thought for a moment. While Francesco’s untimely demise was unexpected, it didn’t matter to her. He served his purpose and had gotten her in with the Italians. Besides, if the vigilante was only after the Italians, it didn’t matter to her. They were pathetic anyway. If the Italians got shot to pieces by a vigilante, then it meant that they would be crippled, sceding more territory to her. She saw it as a win. However, she was pondering about the whole “vigilante”, even Boris could tell something was on her mind. 

“Commander?” he asked.

“I’m fine Boris, I’m just thinking about what Watsup said,” she replied. “Could there be a possibility that there’s a vigilante?”

“Very unlikely commander,” Boris replied. “It would be suicide, Roanapur is no place for heroes.”

“Still, call the men and tell them to stay on guard, and send more men to our operations while we are at it,” Ballalika ordered. “If this person is only going after the Italians, I could care less. However, I don’t want my men or my operations to be put in jeopardy.”

“Besides,” she added. “It’s wise to be on guard just in case the Italians lash out, you never know what a bunch of angry Dagos can do.”

Boris nodded and set off to call the men and shift soldiers around. Meanwhile, Balalaika continued thinking, and strategizing. If there was a vigilante, then they would be dealt with, very harshly. There was a natural order in Roanapur, and a vigilante going around playing John Wayne threatened the balance and peace that Roanapur had. Balalaika lit a cigarette and took a long drag, for now she would wait. Let the Italians deal with the vigilante, as long as it didn’t impact her operations she could care less. However, if this bastard got too big for their britches, then they would feel her wrath. 


	6. Old Friends

_ I was sittin' here thinking about old times some old times some old friends _

_ And suddenly it crossed my mind that I would like to see you again _

_ I Would Like To See You Again _

_ -Johnny Cash _

Dutch awoke to the sound of someone rustling around downstairs. He cursed under his breath, was it a fucking burglar? No one ever broke into the Black Lagoon company. Were the junkies that desperate? He grumbled and grabbed his Smith & Wesson Model 629, he checked the chambers, all were loaded. This junkie or burglar or whoever the fuck they were was going to regret waking him. He slowly moved downstairs, weapon at the ready. He saw a light on in a room, he cocked the hammer on his gun. He moved slowly, gun at the ready, this fucker was going to get it. As he got closer, he noticed the markings on the door, this was the armory. He did not want a junky armed to the teeth, but the guns were all locked down, Dutch made sure of that. However, the last thing he wanted was a junky armed with a goddamn grenade launcher. He slowly opened the door slowly and saw a figure working to open up the armory. He couldn't tell who it was, but they were trespassing. He pointed the gun at them.

“Hands in the air and turn around!” he ordered. 

The figure put their hands over their head, slowly stood up, and faced Dutch. Dutch could see that the figure was wearing a black mask with a skull on it, and they were wearing a black shirt with a white skull on it. 

“You got five seconds to tell me who you are,” Dutch growled.

“That anyway to treat an old friend?” said a familiar voice, which sounded hollow. 

Dutch lowered his revolver, it had been what felt like forever since he heard that voice.

“Revy?” he asked. 

The figure pulled off their mask, revealing them to be Revy. She looked at Dutch with a weary face, she had been through hell and back

“Hello Dutch,” she said. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Dutch. “I could have killed you.” 

“I just came to grab some things,” Revy replied flatly. 

“To do what?” Dutch asked. 

Dutch then took a better look at the room, he noticed that there was a Thompson at her feet. He also smelled gunpowder. He also noticed that she had her Cutlass’s holstered. 

“Revy, what the hell have you been doing?” Dutch asked cautiously. 

Revy looked at Dutch coldly. She had no expression of joy, sadness, guilt, or anything. She was hollow. Revy wasn’t going to bullshit Dutch though. 

“I gunned down Francesco and his crew,” she said. 

“Why the hell did you….” he trailed off, managing to connect the dots. Revy always looked for an excuse to kill someone, and Dutch put two and two together. 

“Is that all?” he asked.

“No, Ronnie ‘The Jaws’ is next,” Revy replied. 

“Back up, Ronnie?” Dutch asked. 

“That’s why I’m here, to get my guns, I figure I’ll need them if I’m going after him,” she replied. 

“Revy, Ronnie has an army to defend him,” Dutch cautioned. “I don’t know how he’s connected to Rock and Hope’s murder, but you could get killed.”

“I’m already dead,” Revy replied coldly. “I lost the man I love and my one shot at joy in the world, how can it get worse for me?”

“Revy, Ronnie is a piece of shit, I will say that,” Dutch said. “But Revy, it’s a suicide mission. What do you have that Ronnie doesn’t.”

Revy looked at Dutch in the eyes. Dutch felt a shiver go up his spine when he looked into Revy’s eyes. It looked like a napalm strike was hidden behind those eyes. 

“I’m a pissed off grieving widow with a lot of firepower,” she replied. 

Dutch knew there was no convincing Revy. He watched as she loaded up her guns and ammo in a duffle bag. She was grabbing it all. She was going up against the Italian mafia, so she needed every bit of ammo she could find. She slung the duffle bag over she shoulder, though some of the guns were too big and she couldn’t bring them. Dutch told her that he would send the bigger stuff to her if she wanted, and Revy thanked her. As she started to leave, Dutch decided to ask her about why she was wearing a skull shirt. Revy looked at him with sad eyes, she was reminiscing. 

“My daughter was having nightmares...so I got her a skull shirt to help ward them off...” she said, trying not to choke up. “She wore it every night before bed after that…...she never had a nightmare again. So now….. I wear it to become a nightmare.”

Dutch could tell Revy did not like reliving painful memories. He could see tears forming in her eyes. She wiped her eyes and looked away from Dutch.

“Sorry again for breaking in Dutch,” she said. 

“You weren’t breaking in, you were collecting your stuff,” Dutch replied. 

“Thanks for everything Dutch,” Revy said. “I always enjoyed working for you and this company.”

Revy started walking out the door, into the darkness.

“Revy! If you need a place to lie low, you are welcome to hide here!” Dutch shouted.

Revy paused and nodded her head but remembered something. 

“Dutch, if some Italian fuck comes to you, let me know, I need to talk to him,” Revy requested. 

Dutch nodded his head and Revy took off into the night. Dutch didn’t know if Revy would be successful in her quest, but god help those who got in her way. 


	7. Who dunnit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronnie takes notice, and is pissed.

_ Thought it was a nightmare, lord it was so true, they told me don’t go walkin slow, the devil’s on the loose. _

_ Run Through The Jungle _

_ -Creedence Clearwater Revival _

“Mother fucker!!” roared Ronnie. He slammed the phone down hard onto his desk, breaking it into little pieces. 

“Boss?” asked one thug. 

“Leave!” he screamed.

His men left quickly and quietly, their boss was pissed and he needed to be alone to blow off some steam. 

Watsup had just called him, informing him of Francesco and his crews death. Ronnie was pissed, someone had just taken out one of his best lieutenants and his crew and he didn’t know who did it. It had to be Hotel Moscow, they never really did like how the Italians tried to use the vampire twins against them, those fucking Ivans always carried grudges. However, what would they have to gain with a war like this? It couldn’t be the Triads, they wouldn’t want a war either. The Columbians, that’s a big maybe since they were getting coke from the AUC, who had it out for leftists and drug lords. However, they were really secretive about their dealings with the AUC, the Columbians were none the wiser and they were on good terms as well. Was it some small time gang? Some punks trying to make a name for themselves? It was bugging the shit out of him. He was stewing in his own anger for 20 minutes when he heard a knock at the door.

“WHAT?” he screamed. 

“Sorry to disturb you boss, but it’s important,” said a goon from behind the door. 

“IT BETTER BE FUCKING IMPORTANT!!” he screamed. 

“We gotta a guy who witnessed Francesco's crew getting whacked,” the goon said. 

Ronnies eyes went wide, this was his chance, he could find who killed Francesco and his crew, and most importantly they would know who to kill. Ronnie straightened his tie and made himself look more presentable, he didn’t want the guys to think he was losing his cool.

“Come in,” he ordered sternly, but not too angrily. 

The goon brought in another fellow of Francesco’s crew. The guy was wearing a white suit, though it was covered in patches of dirt. He was a small man, about 5 feet 5 inches. Ronnie had seen him in the background of Francesco’s crew, but didn’t know his name. 

“He was bangning on the door of one of our safe houses, claiming he saw the shooter,” the goon said. 

“Welcome, welcome,” Ronnie said with a smile on his face. “Can I get you a drink?” 

“Jack and a coke please,” the man replied. 

Ronnie called for a Jack and coke for his guest, while he got a whiskey on the rocks. He then sat the man down into a chair. The man was nervous, he was meeting the boss himself. Ronnie was just excited to have a witness.

“So...what’s your name?” Ronnie asked. 

“Mikey sir,” Mikey said. 

“And you saw who the shooters were?” Ronnie asked.

“Yeah,” Mikey replied. 

Ronnie grinned. 

“Then tell me who they were?” Ronnie asked eagerly. “Russians? Columbians? Japs?”

Mikey took a deep breath, he was thinking that he should humor Ronnie and blame everything on the Columbians, it would probably make more sense than what he actually saw. Then again, he really didn’t want to be drafted into a gang war.

“It wasn’t any of them,” Mikey said. “And there was only one shooter.”

Ronnie’s smile faded.

“Was it a hitman?” asked Ronnie in an aggressive tone.

“Well...I….I don’t know,” Mikey stammered.

He could see Ronnie was getting furious, his eye brows were furrowed and his eyes had the look of murder in them. if he didn’t give him a straight answer soon, then Mikey might leave this office with a caved in skull.

“The shooter was wearing a mask!” he blurted out. 

Ronnie’s murder look faded, but shifted to a more confused, but angry mob boss.

“A mask?” he said.

“Yeah, it looked like a ski mask, but they painted a skull on it,” Mikey explained. 

“Fuck, well that rules out Lotton the Wizard, then again that fucker couldn’t kill anyone,” chuckled Ronnie. “What else was this bastard wearing?”

“Well, they were wearing a black shirt with a skull on it,” he described. “Looked like just an average t-shirt, haven’t seen the design before though. They also had a black trenchcoat on along with military camo pants, and black combat boots.”

“You serious?” Ronnie asked dumbfounded. “What do we have a fuckin superhero?”

Suddenly, his phone rang. He sighed, he hated being interrupted when he was doing stuff. He held up a finger to show that it would only be a moment. He answered it.

“What?” he barked.

“Privet Ronnie,” said Ballalika on the other end.

“What do you want?” he asked grudgingly. Last person he wanted to hear from was that Ivan bitch. She was probably calling to gloat. 

“Can’t a boss check in on a fellow boss?” asked Balalaika smugly. “Besides, I heard about Francesco's untimely death, shame. But is our deal still on?” 

“How do I know you didn’t do this?” barked Ronnie.

“Oh Ronnie, what would I have to gain from such a killing?” she replied. “I just want to know if this impacts our deal we had?”

“I don’t know,” Ronnie sighed. “For all I know the Columbians could have found out…”

“It’’s not the Columbians,” Ballalika said. “I heard from Watsup that it’s not their MO. However, he did pitch the theory to me that it could be the work of a vigilante.”

“You gotta be kidding me? A fucking vigilante?” Ronnie chuckled. “What is Paul Kersey in town?”

Balalaika didn’t laugh, she knew Ronnie would act like this, then again it was no skin off her nose if he bit the bullet at the hands of the vigilante. Then again, it would be her problem if he decided to start going on a rampage with his gang, it was best to focus his piss poor anger towards a vigilante rather than her, or any of the other gangs. She had no doubt that her men could take the Italians, but the ramifications for such a gang war could have consequences.

“I just thought it would be helpful for you to know what you might be facing so you don’t start a gang war,” Ballalika replied. “Because I would hate to play into this vigilante’s hands if that’s their intention.”

“Look, if it was a fucking vigliante, they are fucking dead,” Ronnie said angerly. “But if I find out that it was you or that fucker Chang….”

“If I were you I would take a deep breath and pull your head out of your ass,” Ballalika barked. “Think tactically for once in your life.”

She then hung up. 

Ronnie cursed under his breath. Fuck that Ivan bitch, though she did have a point. He had to think hard on this, he had a fucking witness to the shooter, so anything he said could help narrow down. He looked at Mikey who was sitting quietly in his chair, he could tell he was nervous. 

“My apologies,” Ronnie said. “But I think you are onto something, you said this person was wearing some sort of getup, like a superhero?”

“Well, I didn’t say superhero, but it looked like something a comic book character would wear,” Mickey said.

“Did you see them in action?” asked Ronnie. “Like how they did their dirty work?”

“Unfortunately and thankfully, no,” Mikey replied. “I saw the aftermath, though I’m sure if I saw them in action, I would be in a bodybag and not talking to you.”

“Well, what about weapons?” Ronnie said.

“Well, they had a Thompson, and they also had a couple pistols, looked like Berettas,” Mikey said. “But they were duel wielding, does that narrow it down?”

Ronnie sighed, “No, there’s always some cocksucker in Roanapur that duel wielding weapons. What can you tell me about them height wise or any descriptions that would give them away?”

“I would say about 5 feet 5 inches tall,” replied Mikey.

“Any tattoos that you could see at all?” Ronnie asked.

“Trench coat covered them pretty well, I didn't see anything on them,” Mikey said. 

“Fuck, ok, what about how their body was built? They fat? Muscular?” Ronnie asked. 

“Well, they weren’t muscular, but they were toned, so they were in shape,” Mikey said. “However, well...this is just a guess because it happened so fast.”

“At this point, any fucking thing you saw would be very helpful,” Ronnie replied with a sigh.

“I think they were a woman,” Mikey said.

“Why would you say that?” Ronnie asked.

“Because, I think I saw they had a bump on their chest, that looked like breasts,” Mikey said. “Not to mention they seemed pretty short and slim for a man, I mean that’s a guess though.”

Ronnie sat back in his chair and pondered. From what Mikey gave him, it wasn’t nothing, but it also wasn’t something. This fucker had took out a good crew and was still out there. They were acting like some sort of cowboy, cleaning up the town, and they had the weaponry. He didn’t know how much weaponry this person had, the training, and he certainly didn’t know. However, the main question on his mind was why this fucker took out Francesco and his crew? And was this person going to hit the Russians? The Triads? The Columbians? Or were they just after the Italins. He was still trying to think of who the bastard was. A woman assassin, well if that was true, it really didn’t fucking narrow it down. The assassin game wasn’t a boys club here in Roanapur, there were plenty of female guns for hire to choose from. Duel wielding wasn’t an uncommon trait, but a female who dual wielded…..why did that seem familiar?

“Get down!” screamed Mikey

Mikey pulled Ronnie towards him, Ronnie heard the sound of glass breaking. Before he could even think what that was, the room exploded in a flash of light, and heat. Mikey and Ronnie were thrown back to the wall. The spot where Ronnie was and his desk were blown to bits. Smoke filled the room and shrapnel from the desk peppered the desk. Mikey drew his gun and started firing out the window. He wasn’t sure if he was hitting anything but maybe he would get lucky. The doors bursted open, and two body guards came in, weapons drawn. 

“What the fuck..” said one guard before he was cut off. 

Bullets started spraying into the room, cutting the guards down. With bullets flying around him Mikey and Ronnie both knew they had to get out of there. Mikey scrambled towards the door, but felt a bullet go through his hand. He cursed as he held his hand, watching as blood gushed out of it. He grabbed one of the dead bodyguards and hid under the dead body. He cringed as the blood started soaking into his clothes. Ronnie on the other hand, was laying down on the ground in the corner. He may be terrified, but he knew where the bullets were flying, randomly. He knew that probably the safest place to be was in the same spot, he hoped. Finally after what felt like forever, the gunfire stopped. Ronnie looked up slowly. He heard footsteps of his men approaching the door. 

“Boss! You ok?” One goon shouted.

“Stay away from the fucking door!” Ronnie shouted.

“That fucker is in the building across the street!” shouted Mkey from under the corpse. 

“Go over there and get that cocksucker!” shouted Ronnie. 

The men left to get the figure, though a few stayed behind to keep Ronnie covered. 

“Jesus christ, what the fuck was that?” Ronnie asked. 

“Well, I saw someone across the street with a rocket launcher,” Mikey said. “And I think they were using the same Thompson they used to kill Francesco.” 

“Mother fucker….”Ronnie trailed.

Some cocksucker just tried to take him out, at his place, his fortress! This cocksucker was cocky. He didn’t like it. His men got him and Mikey out of the room and to the basement, less windows, so less chances of someone shooting him. 

“Sir, our men sweeped the building, found shell casings, but no shooter,” one of his men said. 

Ronnie cursed under his breath. He looked at his men.

“Get the lieutenants, and their crews, we need to have a meeting,” Ronnie said. “And call for reinforcements, make a call to the states, Italy, I don’t give a fuck. I want any piece of muscle that the other guys got laying around, and I want them to have enough firepower to level half of the city.”

“Yes sir, I’ll get on it,” said one man. 

Ronnie took out a cigarette and lit it. He took a deep drag of it, letting the tobacco fill his lungs. He needed to calm his nerves. He looked at Mikey.

“Mikey, I believe you used to be a cop, right?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah, I used to be a detective for the NYPD, why?” Mikey replied.

Ronnie grinned. 

“Some cocksucker tried to fuck me,” Ronnie said. “So I want you to get some men together, look at police reports, newspapers, talk to people, I don’t care what the fuck you do. But I want to know who this cocksucker is, so we can show them what happens when they fuck with the Italians.”

Mikey was shocked, he had just been given a better position. Saving the boss would do that. 

“On it boss, I’ll try to figure out who is this, but I’ll need time,” Mikey said.

“Perfect, I need time to get an army together, this fucker isn’t going to know what hit them,” Ronnie said.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed someone to track Revy down, and that's where Mikey comes in. He's an original character, and I figured a former detective would come in handy for this. 
> 
> Also, I like starting off my chapters with song lyrics because I think it adds to the chapter. Also, check out the songs, good stuff to listen too, and they help me write my fic.


	8. Arsenal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revy takes a look at her arsenal

_ I’m fully loaded, I’m lock in stock. I’m going huntin’ with a big buckshot. You’re in my sights, it’s time to strike. I got the ammo to go all night. _

_ Firepower _

_ -Airbourne _

Revy had made her way back to her safe house, unscathed. It was out in the jungles surrounding Roanapur. It was a little getaway place that she knew about, she kept that place in case she needed a place to lie low for a while. Didn't tell Rock or anyone else, aside from Eda. The hit had been a fail, she really thought that the RPG would do its job. However, she was slow. She saw that cocksucker who escaped the Francesco killing in Ronnie’s office. That caused her to pause, and then he saw her. She was kicking herself for that mistake. However, it didn’t matter. She may have failed, but there would be other opportunities. Ronnie and the Italians weren’t like Russians or the Triads. They had the men, but they weren’t tactical. It would take them some time to assemble a force. It also helped that most of their men were streetwise punks. Meant to collect money from shopkeepers who couldn’t pay or rough up drug pushers who didn’t pay their tax for operating on their turf. They could shoot though, but not as effectively. They were essentially a paper tiger. They looked intimidating, however, could be easily punctured. However, with Paper Tigers, you could still get a papercut, which hurts like a mother fucker. However, no matter how many people the Italians had, she had the guns and ammo to take them on. Eda had dropped off the rest of the guns Dutch sent over. Now she had enough firepower to take on those fucks. Though it was tempting to take on the entire Italian mob, she had to focus on one man: Ronnie. That bastard had to pay. He had been there the day her family was murdered, his bullets from him and his guards assisted in killing her family, his time for punishment was now.

She set out her weapons on the floor, thinking of a new strategy on how to deal with him. She gazed upon them. 

For pistols, she of course had her Cutlasses, which were modified Berettas, however she had a few more that she could use. 

A Smith & Wesson Model 439, her father's, well dead father's service pistol when he was in the NYPD. She kept it after she shot him, it was a decent gun and it was the gun that she used to train herself to become accurate.H It had sentimental value. However, it wasn’t the weapon she used to kill him. With an 8 shot magazine and firing 9x19mm ammo, it had some stopping power. It worked well as a backup gun.

She also kept the gun she used to kill her father. A Ruger Single Six, snub nosed version. Her father left this gun lying around, so when she couldn’t get a hold of his 439 to practice, this gun did the job. Firing .22 LR rounds, it did seem a little underpowered, however it did it’s job when she used it to put a hole through her father's skull. What she liked about this gun was that when she used the pillow as a makeshift silencer, the sound was muffled to the point where the neighbors didn’t hear shit. The .22 was a small round, not much power behind it. However, what really brought a smile to her face about this gun is that while the .22 is powerful enough to penetrate a skull, it won’t go out the back of the head. Instead it’ll ricochet around inside the person's skull. It gave her great pleasure to know that her piece of shit father's brain was reduced to swiss cheese after she put a bullet through his head. Though with his drinking there probably wasn’t much left of it anyways. Still, it was a decent backup pistol, though if she wanted to do damage she would use hollow point rounds. 

Her pistols were fairly limited, since she already had her Cutlass’s to do the job, and they could take silencers if she needed. Her other two pistols were more of backup weapons, it never hurt to have an extra pistol on hand. The rest of her arsenal though, had more variety

For submachine guns, on top of the Thompson she procured from Drago, she had the PM-63 RAK. A Polish made submachine gun, fired 9mm makarov rounds from a 25 round box magazine. Such a weapon was used primarily by Polish special forces and airborne units. It was compact, and had a firing rate of 650 rounds per minute. She used this weapon a few times in action, she remembered using this submachine gun and her grenade launcher when they had to fight off those pirates when they first got rock. The compactness of this gun was what made it effective. It had a folding stock, useful for storing and concealing under the trench coat. She could always remove it as well, though the stock made it easier to control.

In case things got too close, she had plenty of shotguns to choose from. The Remington 870, one of the most popular shotguns in the world. Used by civilians, law enforcement, and military alike. With an 8 round magazine, it might seem limited, but firing 12 gauge shells makes up for it. The version she had was the police magnum, the stock and the pump were black, while the rest of the gun was silver. She used this a few times, it was effective at close quarters, and had decent range. 

Dutch had sent her a shotgun of his own, the Ithaca Model 37 Stakeout. Another police favorite, it was a sawed off shotgun for law enforcement. Due to the sawed off nature of it, it only holds 4 12 gauge shells. However it makes up for it with it’s spread range, and it being sawed-off it can be used quite efficiently in close quarters. It doesn’t have a stock, only a pistol grip in the back, hence why it was effective in close quarters.

For the rifles, Revy had plenty to choose from. She had collected quite a bit, so when it came to medium range weapons, she had a lot to choose from. 

For starters, she had an AK-47. A favorite gun for third world militias, rebels, terrorists, and militaries all across the world. Known for its durability and simplicity to use, there’s a reason why children in Africa use these guns with ease. Firing 7.62x39mm shells from a 30 round magazine, it provided a lot of stopping power. It also helped that it didn’t need to be cleaned much, which meant it could be stored in a dirty place and still be ready to fire. While it was a good gun, the accuracy of it wasn’t the best, even in her hand. However, such a gun would be useful to use. 

Next was the Heckler and Koch G3 Battle rifle. A durable gun, popular with militaries and gun nuts. The Germans know how to make excellent battle rifles, since they did make the first one ever with the STG 44. Capable of firing 7.62x51mm NATO from either a 20 round magazine or a 50 round drum if needed, with supreme accuracy, it was a deadly rifle to be reckoned with. 

She then had the APS Underwater Assault Rifle. A Russian made assault rifle capable of firing .556 mm bullets under the water out of a 26 round magazine. She got this gun as a gift from Dutch when they did that mission to get that stupid painting, then she got to kill a boat full of Nazis which was fun. She could only use it underwater though, if she fired it above ground, the rifle's lifespan went from 2000 rounds underwater, to 180 when above water. However, she didn’t think she would be using it on this quest, since her targets were above ground. 

Of course, no arsenal was complete with at lease one semi-automatic rifle that wasn’t a full auto weapon. The Ruger Mini-14, a smaller version of the M14 rifle. Firing 5.56 NATO from a 30 round box magazine , it was a good weapon for close quarters with little recoil. Popular with civilians, law enforcement, and even the military It was lightweight and easy to control, perfect for her. 

For long range, she had a nice surprise in store for those fuckers. While close quarters was always fun, since she loved seeing their terrified faces as she ripped through them, it never hurt to take them out at a distance. 

The Remington Model 700 was a decent bolt action sniper rifle. It was a civilian hunting rifle, and her version fired .308 rounds, meant for hunting big game. The bastards she was hunting probably fit that criteria for hunting. 

However, in case the target was either in an armored car, behind a thick wall, or if she felt like turning any part of his body into a fine paste, she had the Gepard M3 anti-material rifle. The Hungarians had outdone themselves with this gun. It fired  [ 14.5×114mm ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/14.5%C3%97114mm) from a 5 round magazine. The ammo was meant to be used on aircraft and tanks. So you could imagine what it could do to a mob boss. She wished she had used this gun on Ronnie first, but then again, it was nice to blow up his office. 

For light machine guns, Dutch came through and got her an M60 light machine gun. Nicknamed “the Pig” in Vietnam, it had a habit of jamming, but in the right hands and with proper cleaning it could lay down an intense amount of suppressive fire. A weapon like this in the right hands could mow through hundreds of Viet Cong or in this case, Italian muscle. It was still popular with the United States military, and various groups across the world.

In case things got more explosive, she had a couple weapons to choose from. 

First, was the same weapon she had decided to use on Ronnie. The RPG, a Russian made Rocket launcher that was so simple, anyone could use it. There was a reason why it was popular with cartels and terrorists all over the world, it’s cheap, powerful, and easy to load. 

Then she had the M79 grenade launcher. Nicknamed Thumper by U.S. soldiers in Vietnam, this single shot grenade launcher was capable of busting bunkers, trenches, or dealing with sneaky enemies. Capable of firing high explosive, fletchet rounds, smoke, tear gas, and flare rounds. It was also capable of firing a round Dutch had shown her a couple years back. Apparently, someone got the idea to give the M79 the capability of being a small shotgun. So they developed the beehive rounds. It was a 40mm casing, but it contains 10 .22 LR rounds that when fired, would act like a small shotgun. Very useful for crowd control, or for close quarters. 

These were her tools, her weapons. These would be the weapons she would use to bring hell down upon those fuckers. 

She heard a knock on the door. She reached for her Cutlass, just in case.

“Do not, fucking shoot me,” said Eda from the other side of the door. “Now open up.”

Revy went over to the door and opened it. Eda was there wearing her nun uniform, she had a file under her arms.

“You weren’t followed were you?” Revy asked. 

“Of course I fucking wasn’t, I’m not an amature,” she said. “What about you? After that shit you pulled on Ronnie the Italians are scouring the city and are on high alert.”

“That dago cunt needed to get his bell rung,” Revy growled. 

“Well you missed, he’s still breathing,” Eda said. “I thought you were going to do this tactically.”

“I wanted to let him know that he’s not safe,” Revy growled. “And that was before I knew the head of the fucking Italian Mafia was involved on that day.”

Eda sighed, she wanted to remind Revy that it was Francesco and Drago who were responsible, but saying that would probably get her pistol whipped by Revy. Ronnie was on the list because it turned out that the bullet that went through Revy and killed her daughter was from Ronnie’s gun, a Beretta. She managed to figure that out not only from Drago’s revelation on the target, but through forensics reports determined that the bullet came from a 9millimeter pistol. Ronnie’s guards all packed Uzis, only Ronnie had a Beretta.

“Well, because of your little stunt, he’s doubled his guards,” Eda said. She set out photos, revealing large numbers of men and guns guarding Ronnie and his establishments. “He’s also shacked up inside his mansion, he is not leaving for a while. He’s also called for reinforcements.”

“Any professional soldiers?” asked Revy as she looked over the photos.

“Mostly former cops, few ex-military, but it's mostly streetwise punks,” Eda said. “However, what concerns me the most is the numbers.”

“I can handle it,” Revy said. 

“Revy, Ronnie has doubled the bodyguards surrounding him,” Eda said “He went from just five guys to 20 guys. His operations at least have three men with assault rifles guarding it, on top of the muscle already there. He has his men patrolling the city non stop, there’s at least a car full of Italians on every corner in Italian territory. Revy, shit has officially hit the fan.”

“I have plenty of ammo for them,” Revy replied aggressively. “And I have enough hate to keep me motivated.”

“Revy, I know it’s your first instinct to go in guns blazing, but sit the fuck down and think ,” Eda growled. “You keep going down this path, you’ll wind up catching a bullet.”

“If I die I’ll finally be with my family,” Revy said coldly. 

Eda didn’t say anything, nor did she gasp. Revy had a strange way of grieving, and hate had taken over her mind. She didn’t want her friend to die, though all she was doing was pushing her closer to getting herself killed. She was using her CIA skills and intelligence she was gathering in Roanapur to help her friend. However, she was afraid of what she had unleashed. Revy was dangerous, but uncontrollable. It was hard to get her to approach a situation tactically. Her emotions clouded her judgement, and only made her a liability. What made her more dangerous was her tendency to kill. Before she had Hope, she needed someone to kill to make her fell at ease. For 5 years, she hadn’t killed anyone. Now that bloodlust had piled up, and Revy was craving violence. An idea struck Eda’s mind, an idea that could work in Revy’s favor. 

“You want to make him pay?” Eda asked.

“Of course I fucking do!” Revy snapped. 

“Then what you need to do is bleed him,” Eda said.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Revy asked.

“If there’s one thing Ronnie cares about, its power,” Eda explained. “The drugs, the gambling, whatever he does, that makes him money. If anything threatens that power, he’ll do anything to secure it, that means he might act irrationally.”

“Where are you going with this?” Revy asked suspiciously.

“Ronnie has an army of bodyguards, and I don’t know if he will be leaving his mansion for awhile,” Eda continued. “However, this influx of bodyguards and muscle reveals a weakness: he’s scared.”

“No shit,” Revy grumbled. 

“It means, if you were to start hitting his operations, he would get even more scared,” Eda said.

“And how would that benefit me?” Revy asked angrily. “You just got done lecturing me about how my actions only made this harder.”

“My point is, the more you take from him, the more he panics,” Eda said. “Which means he will become vulnerable, he’ll do something stupid. And you’ll be waiting to put a bullet through his head.”

Revy smiled devilishly, she was going to enjoy this. She was going to make that bastard suffer, by taking him apart piece by piece. She was already going to kill all the fucks that got in her way, but now she had a perfect reason to kill them. Every fuck she killed, meant that it would get her closer to Ronnie.

Eda smiled as well, this was an old CIA tactic. To defeat an enemy, you have to attack their means of production. They waste resources and manpower to defend them, leaving more critical areas open for attacks. It's a perfect tactic, you cripple their resources and infrastructure while spreading their lines thin, meaning that all that's left is to do one final push, and they break like a twig. They always do, and it's shown in the past, the CIA has done this multiple times in countless countries, and it’s tried and true to work everytime. It never fails. However, the only concern she had is would Revy cripple the Italians to where they wouldn’t be able to even stand on one leg, or would Ronnie freak out and do something stupid by then? Only time, and the body count would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one I liked writing a lot, had to do some research on the guns Revy weilded in Black Lagoon, though I took some liberties for some of the guns.


	9. Gone Shootin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revy is locked and loaded, and ready for a first night of killing.

_ Don’t go out tonight, don’t even try to fight. ‘Cause I can see, I’ve got the thing you need, and I’m here to stay, it’s gonna be that way. Don’t try to run, don’t try to scream. Believe me the hammer’s gonna smash your dream. _

_ The Hammer _

_ -Motörhead _

  
  


The Italian mob’s reinforcements would arrive in a matter of days, which meant if Revy wanted to draw out Ronnie, she would have to act fast. She decided to hit somewhere small, just to test the water. There was a grocery store that served as a stop for a drug courier. That meant there would be drugs, and money there. Such things like that were all over the place, but hitting at least one would tick Ronnie off. It also would provide her cash, which could be useful for buying ammo and bigger weapons. When the sun started to set, she had Eda drive her downtown. It was a risk, but Revy would be spotted a mile away if she was seen walking the streets. People would talk if they saw her, and if word got back to Ronnie he could potentially put two and two together. She couldn’t go down there in her get up, because every Italian footsoldier would be on her like ants on a candy bar. Revy was hiding in the backseat under a blanket. It was crude, but no one would ask questions or see her. They arrived at the store and she had Eda park around the corner, just a block away from the store. 

“You sure you got enough firepower?” Eda asked. 

“Stay close, I’ll radio you if I need any more, I might have a few more places to visit,” Revy said coldly. 

“What makes you think that half of the Italians won’t come down on you after you do this?” aske Eda.

Revy didn’t say anything but took out two suppressors and attached them to each of her pistols. Eda chuckled, Revy had a plan.

“Happy hunting,” she said. 

Revy stepped out of the car and started stealthily moving towards the shop. She stuck to the shadows, just in case if there’s any snipers. As she got closer she took out a small rifle scope to scan the area. Apparently this place hadn’t gotten any reinforcements. The front doors were locked, but there wasn’t anyone there. No guards roaming the perimeter. She moved to the back of the store and only saw one guy at the back with a SPAS12. Pretty pathetic, then again these guys were just streetwise punks, if this was Hotel Moscow, there would have been a hell of a lot more guards than this, maybe even a sniper. However, Ronnie’s reinforcements had yet to arrive, and right now any men were sent to more areas of high importance. While this store was a stop for drug couriers, it wasn’t high on the list for protection because it’s obscurity was what kept it concealed. Then again, they weren’t expecting someone with years of intelligence on every group in Roanapur to hand out their information to someone wanting revenge. 

Revy aimed her pistol. The punk was leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t have a care in the world. That was his mistake. She squeezed the trigger and her gun made a muffled crack. The punks head snapped back and he slumped against the wall, leaving a trail of blood down the wall. She advanced toward the door, gun aimed at the door in case some other punk came out. She glanced at the corpse. The SPAS 12 would be a good gun in this situation, close quarters, good stopping power. However, it was noisy. She didn’t want to risk attracting any more punks. Then again, even if they did come, it would be like lambs to slaughter. However, Eda did tell her to keep things stealthy, which she grudgingly obeyed.

Part of her just wanted to go to Ronnie's place with an M60 and the M79 and lay waste to everything, but there was a big chance she would wind up getting killed. Though, taking Ronnie’s operations apart piece by piece would be equally as fun. Eventually that bastard would come out of his hole, and she would be waiting. 

She opened the back door and scanned the room, it was dark, and no sign of anyone. She slowly moved through the room and made her way into the hallway. She could hear some voices through the hallway. She slowly moved through the dark hallways. These guys were not expecting a raid, even with a shooter on the loose. They were just expecting an easy night of counting money and probably getting high. She smiled with malicious intent. There was something pleasing about getting the drop on a bunch of punks unprepared to fight. You could see the fear in their eyes as they looked down the barrel of the gun. You could see them trying to figure out if they should surrender, fight, or run. Then there were those that would look at them with the deer in a headlights look, unsure of what to do. Those, those were the easiest to kill. She approached the door and pressed her ear to it, she could hear the voices. Eda’s intel did say she could expect about 6 men behind that door. Easy hit. From what she heard, these men weren’t expecting any company, which worked in her favor. She would kick in the door, the men would freeze in shock, and they would be dropped with relative ease. She put her mask on and drew her second pistol, it was time to get to work.

She then heard the sound of something flushing behind her and then a door open. A guy in a white t-shirt and jeans exited the restroom. He had a MAC-10 hanging by his side, but he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked up, and his face melted to a terrified expression. Revy raised her pistol at him. That punk's first mistake was hesitating. Revy had plenty of time to raise her pistol. Even though he only hesitated for two seconds, he was two seconds too slow. Revy fired and the bullet tore right through his throat. The punk’s eyes went wide and his hands instinctively grabbed his throat. He gurgled as he choked on his blood and stumbled back into the wall with a loud thud. He slumped to the ground, dead, his blood soaking his shirt in red glob. 

“The fuck was that?” said a voice from the other side of the door.

“Go check it out!” ordered another voice. 

“Fuck,” she thought. She may have lost the element of surprise, but that wasn’t going to put an end to the fun.

She kicked down the door, startling a punk, who jumped back in surprise. Before he could raise his gun, she put a bullet through his head. She saw 4 men at a table, shocked. They scrambled to get their guns up. 

“Too slow,” she thought. 

Her mind thought fast. Take out the major threats first. First guy on the far left of the table was fumbling for a pistol, he could wait. The other two on the right had Uzis on the table, that would be a problem. The guy in the middle was reaching under the table for his gun, idiot. 

She trained her first pistol on the pistol boy, the other on the uzi guys. Her Berettas opened up with haste. The uzi guys went down in two shots, directly in the chest, one for each. Pistol boy though, lost his jaw. He dropped his gun and clutched his now ruined jaw as blood shot out all over the table. The man in the middle, startled by his comrades jaw getting shot off, bumped his shotgun on the roof of the table. She trained both her pistols on him and fired four shots, two from each gun. The man's chest exploded in a puff of blood. He fell back in his chair and fell to the ground with a thud. 

She then turned her eyes towards the jawless man, who was making a series of gagging noises. He looked at her, and she could see the terror in his eyes. He was scared, and suffering. She could have watched him suffer as he choked on his teeth and his blood, but she had shit to do. She raised her pistol and put a bullet to the poor bastard's head. She then turned her eyes towards the table. In the midst of all the blood on the table, what she came for was on the table: money. It looked like they had recently gotten a drop, for there was a big pile of it. She grabbed a sack and pushed the money into the bag. It didn't matter if there was a little blood on it, all money was blood money in Roanapur. It would come in handy for buying ammo, and weapons, just in case this little crusade dragged on. She honestly wasn’t surprised how easy this job was, the Italinas were just a bunch of punks, not soldiers. They had the guns, but they lacked the skills to make them a threat. However, she couldn’t let her guard down at all around these mooks, for punks with guns were just as deadly. 

After filling the bag she looked at the dead bodies and the shop. If the point of doing this was to cripple Ronnie, then she should do a little more than just kill a few guys and make off with his money. If she really wanted to hurt him, it would make sense to take this whole building down. A smile came to her face, if this was a store, then it should have motor oil, some styrofoam, and maybe even some gasoline. The ingredients needed to make some really good molotov cocktails. 

******

As the market burned, Revy made her way down the alleys. It felt good setting that market on fire, Ronnie would have to waste time finding a new stash house. It would also draw the attention of Ronnie’s soldiers, who would surely come to check it out. That meant less on the street, which made her next target an easy target. Simple drug pusher, he was just a basic dealer. However, he would inform her about stash house, where all the meth, coke, crack, heroine, and other illegal substances were hiding out. Of course, she already knew where the stash house was. Killing the pushers was just adding to crippling Ronnie. He couldn’t sell drugs if people were afraid of catching a bullet. However, the intel she had on the stash house could be outdated. Ever since she took a shot at Ronnie, he could have added more soldiers to the stash house to keep it safe, or even moved it. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out. 

She moved carefully through the alley, everytime a car came by, she hid. She couldn’t risk any of Ronnie’s guys seeing her at all. She had a job to do. Cripple first, kill later. She spotted the dealer on the corner, near some apartment building. He was all alone, though there could be backup. He was selling heroin to some junkie. She kept to the shadows and made her way to him. He had just sold the junkie a hit of heroin, and was now alone. He then noticed her in the dim streetlights.

“You need something?” he shouted. 

Revy didn’t say anything, but just walked towards him. She was spotted anyways, no sense in hiding now. Her gun was already drawn. 

“The fuck is with the mask and that get...” 

The dealer's eyes went wide, he reached behind his back to draw his weapon. Revy put a bullet to his kneecap before he could. The dealer dropped to the ground and groaned in pain. He tried to raise his pistol, but Revy put her boot on his wrist. He moaned in pain as she pressed hard on his wrist, dropping his gun. She kicked the gun away and she continued pressing on his wrist. Revy glared at him with pleasure, watching this piece of shit suffer was amusing. 

“Please, let me go, I’ll tell you what you want,” groaned the dealer.

“I’ll end your suffering, just tell me about the stash house in this area,” Revy barked.

“What do you want to know?” he groaned.

“Location, men, weapons, anything useful,” Revy said. 

“The stash house is in the basement of an apartment building on 12th street,” groaned the dealer. 

“Same place, good,” Revy thought. “How many men are guarding it?” 

“I don’t know,” the dealer groaned.

“Wrong answer,” Revy growled. 

She then pressed on his knee cap firmly. The dealer howled in pain and squirmed, trying to escape. That only made her press harder onto his kneecap. She pressed on his knee for a minute, just so he knew the consequences. 

“Now, let’s try that again,” she growled. “How many men are guarding the stash house?”

“Oh god, 10 to 15 I think?” he groaned.

“Think?” she said as she pressed harder on his knee and the man howled in pain.

“Ok! Ok!” he sobbed. “It’s about 15 men inside, but they started posting guys on the outside, they are in cars.”

“How many?” she inquired. 

The dealer was about to answer when Revy then said. “Remember to be specific.”

“Usually 2 cars, guys armed to the teeth, but it varies.”

That wouldn’t be a problem for her. 

“Weapons?” she asked.

“Oh come on,” he groaned. 

Revy pressed on his knee harder and his screams turned from high pitched to more gargled and lower. He started to sound like a dying animal begging to be put out of its misery.

“Jesus Christ, please,” moaned the dealer.

“Weapons, now!” Revy demanded.

“Jesus Christ, pistols, shotguns, uzis, the usual shit! I’m not a fucking expert!” 

That gave her enough, they were armed, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Then again, it was the Italian mob, they wouldn’t have that much fire power like the Russians would. No light machine guns or rocket launchers at all. 

“Anything else you want to share?” Revy asked. 

“There’s a meth lab three blocks away from the stash house in a rundown crackhouse, it’s also full of junkies,” he groaned. “Has a few guns, about 5 guys, armed with shotguns and submachine guns. That’s all I know I swear.”

“Thank you,” Revy said and she pointed her pistol at the dealers head. The dealer's eyes went wide.

“You said you would let me go!” he sobbed. 

“I said I would end your suffering,” she said slyly. “I never specified how.”

Before the dealer could say another word, Revy put a bullet right through his temple, sending his brains all over the pavement. She then called up Eda.

“Stash house is in the same place, meet me there about a block away, I’m going to need to rearm.”

“Roger.”

*****

Revy observed the stash house through her binoculars. There were two guards at the door, no snipers, and there was a car out front with four guys in it. Nothing else as far as she could see. This was going to be easy. She loaded her Ruger Mini-14, she went with the 30 round magazine. She figured it would be good for this situation, if she was dealing with multiple targets, she would need something with a good amount of power, and that had less recoil. She screwed a silencer on the Mini-14 and took up a position behind a trash can. She figured it would be good to take out the guys in the car first, can’t have backup coming in. She took aim, the men were in the car, just taking, and smoking. The window was rolled down a little so the cigarette smoke could get out. She took aim at the driver first.

CRACK

The muffled shot hit the man in the temple and he slumped over. She could hear the commotion in the car as the men started panicking. One of the men in the backseat behind the driver started to get out. Revy put two bullets into his chest and he crumpled to the ground. The other men took cover behind the car. They started firing wildly into the night.

“Dumbasses,” Revy thought. 

Idiots watch too many movies, think that hiding behind a car makes them safe. However, they forget that their legs are exposed underneath the car. Revy took aim and let loose a few shots under the car. The men groaned as the bullets connected with their knees. She started moving towards the truck. She spotted a thug coming out of the alleyway with a shotgun. She fired two shots, hitting him in the chest, sending him to the ground. She quickly checked out the men behind the car, they were clutching their legs and rolling on the ground groaning. She dispatched them with two shots to the head. She then made her way towards the alley.

She was wondering if the men inside had heard the gunfire, when submachine gun fire bursted out of the alley. She took cover near the corner and peered around it. There was a punk with an MP5K, a smaller version of the MP5. It was popular with gangs and security forces around the world. The idiot was scrambling to reload, since he unleashed an entire magazine on someone who just dispatched 3 of his fellow men. Revy took a deep breath, then rolled from behind cover and fired two shots at the punk. Both shots hit him in the stomach and he doubled over and groaned. She started making her way towards the door, it was locked. She cursed under her breath, but looked at the punk. He was still alive, and trying to reach weakly for a pistol. She grabbed the punk by his collar and hoisted him up. She grabbed the pistol and tossed it aside and looked at him in the eyes. She could tell he was scared, scared of dying. 

“Please….let me go,” he rasped. 

Revy knew that gut shot was going to kill him, it was only a matter of time. Two shots to the gut, he wasn’t going to walk away from that. This wasn’t the movie where the hero can shake this off. This punk was bleeding out. However, this punk would make himself useful in his final moments. 

“Knock on the door, and tell them to open up,” Revy demanded. 

“And…. you’ll let me go…. right?” he asked hoarsely.

Revy knew this punk was dead already, but if he wanted a slow painful death that was his choice. “Of course.”

The punk knocked on the door weakly. 

“Guys….let me in...I’m hit!” he yelled hoarsely.

“Anyone alive out there?” called someone from inside the building. 

“No….just me….. rest are dead.”

“Fuck, the shooter out there?”

“No...please...let...me...in….”

“Shit, hold on.”

Revy heard the locks turning to open the door, and she pulled out 2 frag grenades and pulled the pins. The door opened a crack and Revy threw in the grenades. 

“Holy shi-!”

The exclamation was cut off by an explosion, followed by groans of injured men behind the door. Revy could even see blood pooling out from under the door. She opened the door, revealing torn apart and crumpled bodies were in the hallway. A few were breathing, some were close to bleeding out. She counted 7 bodies, perfect. She looked at the injured man, he was not looking well. He lost a lot of blood, he was close to passing out. He looked at her, holding his belly to keep his guts in. His eyes showed exhaustion. 

“Good work,” Revy praised.

“I….can go….?” asked the punk.

“I said I would, you are free to go,” Revy said.

The punk slowly smiled and tried to stand up. His legs wobbled and he fell face first. Revy listened as his breathing became shallower. She then turned her attention to the stash house, that punk dying was long dead, he would be dead before she was done. She made her way into the stash house, as the gutshot punk laid there on the ground dying like a dog. No skin off her nose though, he made his choice. If he wanted to suffer, that was fine with her. Saves her the bullet. 

She entered the stash house, Ruger at the ready. She could hear shuffling in the stash house as the punks were getting in position. She could hear orders and yells in the house, the bastards were only making this easier for her. She heard the sound of someone running towards her, the footsteps echoed throughout the hall. She calmly took aim and waited. A punk ran around the corner, shotgun in his hand. Before he could even raise his gun, Revy put two shots in his chest, he fell against the wall and slumped to the ground, leaving a trail of blood sliding down the wall. She moved towards the corner, but ducked back when bullets riddled the corner. The punks had finally managed to set up a good ambush finally, however they were too slow. From the fire, Revy could tell there was one pistol, and one submachine gun. She pulled out a flashbang, and waited for the submachine gun to open. She pulled the pin and threw it. A flash of light lit up the hallway, followed by a loud bang. She could hear the disoriented noises of the punks trying to comprehend what the hell was going on. She readied her gun and took aim at the stumbling punks. She dropped them with two shots to the head. 

“Too easy,” she thought. 

She continued advancing, gun ready. She had forgotten how exciting it was to kill punks. The way they tried to stand and fight, thinking that those guns they had made them soldiers. All they were was children, scared. The moment they watched their comrades get their brains blown out, watching them choke on their blood, they ran. She had seen it before...all the missions she did with Dutch, Benny, and….

“No! No!” she thought. “Don’t dwell, kill!” 

She couldn’t let memories district her. Even the happy ones, right now, old Revy was in charge. Revy that would kill a fuck who looked at her wrong. Revy who dropped bodies like the Soviets in Afghanistan. She was back in action, and she was loving the killing. The gunpowder filled her nose, this felt right to her. Hearing the echoes of shell casings hitting the ground after every round is fired. It felt amazing. 

A bullet then whizzed past her head, she ducked down and fired at a punk who was firing from behind the wall. The dumbass had his knee exposed, which is where her bullet connected. The punks kneecap shattered and he tumbled to the ground. He clutched his leg as he writhed on the floor. Revy finished him with a bullet to the head. She turned around the corner and a fat hand shot out, grabbing the barrel of her gun. Some fat punk had been hiding in the doorway. He was a big man, built like a bouncer, tough like one too, but not as tall as one. He was her height. He had a TEC-9 in his other hand. He shoved her barrel and leveled the TEC-9 at her. Revy quickly headbutted, breaking his nose with a disgusting crunch. Blood poured down the punks face and instinctively, he cupped his nose to stop the bleeding. She rammed the butt of her gun into his throat, crushing his larynx and sending him back. He dropped to his knees, gagging. His gun fell out of his hand and skidded across the floor. She then took the gun and garroted him, he gagged as she dug the gun deep onto his throat. He grasped, trying to pry the gun from under his throat. He gagged for air and struggled, but Revy kept a grip on him. She could hear footsteps running down the hallway. 

“Fuck!” she thought. 

Three men turned the corner and opened fire. Revy spun the punk she was garroting towards the gunfire. The punk jerked as the bullets tore through his chest and arms. The punk was a big tubby guy, all that fat was absorbing the bullets, but Revy knew her meat shield wouldn’t last long. She drew her pistol and fired under the fat punks arm, her shots went wild but they caused the punks shooting at her to scurry for cover. She kept firing until she heard the hammer click. 

“Shit!” she thought. 

“Bastard’s out!” 

A hail of bullets came flying, the punk taking most of them. Revy felt a pain go up her arm and she jerked back, dropping the gun. A lucky shot grazed her hand, traveling up her arm, leaving a deep gash. She tripped herself up and fell down, with fatboy landing on her. 

“Get off tubby!” she thought. 

She couldn’t move, the fatboy was crushing her. She had to think. Her left arm was pinned, her gun she dropped was out of reach, she couldn’t get her other pistol, and her Ruger was out of reach as well. 

“This is how it ends,” she thought. “Getting capped while dying under fatman, fuck I should have died at the park.”

She could hear the punks conversing. 

“That fucker dead?” 

“I think so.”   
  


“Go check it out.”

“Fuck you man, you do it!” 

“No you!”

They were bickering, perfect. That gave her time. However, she had another advantage, they thought the shooter was dead. She needed a gun though. Her eyes fell on the TEC-9, it was within reach. She reached out for it. It was inches away from her. 

“Look, let’s go together, if that fuck is alive, they can’t get us all.”

“Now they decide to start working together,” she thought.

She struggled to grab the gun, while maintaining the illusion that she is dead. She could feel the gun on her finger tips. 

“Come on!” she thought. 

She could hear footsteps of the punks approaching. She stretched her arm, trying to get a grip on the gun. Her fingertips were touching it, all she needed was to get a hold of it. She could feel her muscles straining as she reached for the gun. Finally, she got a finger on the grip.

“Fuck yeah!” she thought. 

The footsteps were getting closer. She started sliding the gun towards her and wrapped her fingers around the plastic handle. She smiled. It was showtime. The footsteps got closer. She quickly brought the gun close to her side, hiding it. She feigned playing dead. Finally, the punks arrived, they stood over the body, guns trained on the corpse. 

“Chist, feel sorry for Donny.” 

“Big guy probably died quick.”

“Is that the bastard underneath him?”

“Looks like it, they ain’t moving.”

“Guess if the bullets didn’t kill him, Donny’s fat ass did.” 

The punks started laughing and they lowered their guns, giving Revy her target of opportunity. She quickly raised the TEC-9 and pulled the trigger. A burst of fire caught the punks off guard, they didn’t even have time to duck before their chests and necks were ripped apart by a hail of 9millimeter bullets. They crumpled to the ground. Revy could hear the gurgling of the men choking on their own blood. She listened for any other footsteps or movement. Nothing. Looks like the intel was right, 15 punks. 

The then gazed at the TEC-9, such a popular weapon with street gangs, small gun with a lot of firepower. Originally this gun was produced and marketed as a plain old semi automatic pistol, however criminals found that with a few modifications, it could be converted into a fully automatic weapon. Combine that with an impressive 32 round box magazine and you’re set. 

“I like your gun, I’m going to keep it,” she told the dead body. 

She wanted to leave, but was still pinned underneath fat boy. She sighed and radioed Eda through her earpiece. 

“Eda, I’m pinned underneath a fat punk, I need your help.”

Silence was on the other end of the radio.

“Eda?” 

“What do you say when you’re done saying something over the radio, over?” replied Eda.

“I swear to fuck!”

“Hey, radio rules, over.”

“Eda you bitch!”

Silence. Revy sighed. 

“Eda I’m pinned underneath a fat punk, I need you help, over.”

“Everyone dead? Over.”

“Of course they’re fucking dead, over.”

“Be there in a bit, sit tight, over.”

Revy sighed, this night was just getting better and better. 

****

“Jesus Christ, you’ve been busy,” Eda commented. 

She had been admiring Revy’s handy work with taking down the stash house. Revy was still pinned and glaring angrily at Eda. Though Eda couldn’t see Revy’s face because she was still wearing the mask, she could feel the anger coming out of her eyes. 

“Get this fat boy off of me,” she growled. 

“What’s the magic word?” teased Eda.

“Get fatboy off of me or I’ll put crushed glass in your coffee,” Revy growled. 

Eda chuckled and pulled her friend out from the dead fatman. Revy pulled off the mask and glared at her. Eda then noticed Revy gripping the TEC-9.

“New gun?”

“Yeah, figured I would pick up a little souvenir.”

Revy then grabbed her Beretta, and the Ruger and they went down to the basement of the stash house, and sitting on the table was a big pile of money. It was stacked high. It appears that this was some of Ronnies earnings from the drug trade, and hustling. Eda grinned.

“Now that would definitely get Ronnie’s attention,” she chimed.

“How much do you think is there?” asked Revy.

“Enough to get you some quality firearms and ammunition,” Eda said. “Fuck, with this money you could probably just buy enough explosives to blow him to hell.”

She glanced at Revy, in which she saw a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“That’s a metaphor Revy, don’t actually do that,” Eda scolded.

Revy muttered something under her breath, but Eda couldn't’ hear. They set about bagging the money in a few duffle bags. Eda estimated there had to be at least $100,000 here. There were also stashes of coke, heroin, and a few other drugs. Eda noticed Revy was gazing at the stash. Back when they hung out, Revy was known for partaking in a few narcotics. Doing a line of coke now and then, little heroine. But mostly, drinking was her poison. However, in this state of Revy’s mind, adding drugs to the mix would complicate thing significantly. Eda handed Revy a molotov cocktail. 

“You want Ronnie’s attention?”

Revy didn’t say anything but took the molotov and lit it. She chucked it at the drugs, setting them ablaze. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Revy grumbled. 

“You still have one more target,” Eda commented. 

“Got my grenade launcher?” asked Revy.

*****

The quiet evening of Roanapur was shattered by an explosion and a bright light that lit up the town. Meth labs were known for their flammability, and a M79 with incendiary rounds did the job perfectly. They drove away from the flaming building, Revy just wanted to rest. Being crushed by a fat guy after shooting up the stash house was exhausting. The junkies inside the house scrambled out, burning alive. Yelling and howling as they rolled on the ground

“Those junkies sure lit up pretty easily,” commented Eda.

“When your diet consists of nothing but smack and crank, your body makes pretty good kindling,” replied Revy. 

Eda continued driving down the street, and glanced at Revy. Revy was staring out the window, deep in thought. 

“You know, while I could care less about a bunch of junkies, did they really need to die?” asked Eda. “I mean, they didn’t kill your family.”

“They bought his shit, that money was passed around to cronies, who hired that gunman, in my eyes they fucking deserve to burn,” Revy muttered. 

“Sure about that?” asked Eda.

Revy looked at Eda with disdain in her eyes. 

“If I didn’t kill them, they would have ended up hurting someone else to get their fix,” said Revy coldly. “I think I did an act of community service.”

Eda didn’t say anything, but now her concern had grown even more. It wasn’t uncommon for Revy to enjoy killing, in fact, back when she was a hired gun, she loved killing. Revy would drove on endlessly about how much she enjoyed gunning down hired hands, thugs, rebels, bounty hunters, and others when they drank together. Eda enjoyed a good shootout as well. She was no stranger to violence. Her time in the CIA got her accustomed to it. She had done some horrible things in the CIA, stuff she wasn’t proud of. However, she had just been following orders, and they were enemies in her eyes. But Revy on the other hand, the was she was sounding, she was sounding like one of those tough on crime politicians in Washington who wouldn’t give two shits if some poor junkie overdosed on heroin. 

“Less customers for the pushers,” they would say. 

It was almost haunting. She was wondering if she made the right choice giving her that file. Revy didn’t even ask how Eda got it, for all Revy knew, the Church had its connections. It was handy to have leverage on rivals. She had no idea that Eda was a spook for the CIA.

She liked having Revy back, but she wanted the one who would be down for a killing, this Revy though, this one was terrifying. This one seemed to be lost in the path of vengeance that she would think anyone in some way was related to her family's death. She kept driving, wondering if she could keep this pitbull on a chain, or would it be set loose in the city.

The other thought crossed her mind, one she dreaded. Once she got her revenge, what would she do?


	10. To Catch a Vigilante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A former detective investigates the mysterious figure shooting up the Italians

_ Well, Sherlock Holmes, Sam Spade got nothin', child, on me, Sergeant Friday, Charlie Chan, And Boston Blackie, No matter where she's a hiding, She's gonna hear me a comin'.Gonna walk right down that street Like Bulldog Drummond, 'cause I've been searchin', oooh, Lord, searchin', mm child searchin' every which a-way. Yeah, yeah, but I'm like the Northwest Mounties _

_ You know I'll bring her in some day (Gonna find her) (Gonna find her) _

_ Searchin’ _

_ The Coasters _

  
  


If there was one thing that Mikey could do, it was investigate someone. There was a reason Francessco put him on his crew, Mikey was a former detective. For 15 years he worked for the NYPD, solving crimes and putting away bad guys. Of course, the guys he happened to put away just happened to be rival gang members or people who got on the mob's bad side. He would occasionally “attempt” to bring in an Italian, but they had a habit of resisting arrest, which forced him to shoot them in “self-defense”. Afterwards, he got a nice envelope in his mailbox, congratulating him on a job well done. 

That was the story of Mikey O’Driscole, mother was Italian, father was Irish, and he found himself working for the Italian Mafia. Since his father was Italian they let him do jobs for them, but he was never really a part of the whole, “family”. He felt like the twice removed bastard cousin who was still welcomed at family reunions, but everyone knew he wasn’t “family”. He tried to be a clean cop, but no one stayed clean forever in New York City. It was in his best interest to take the money, and provide them with information if they needed it. That didn’t mean he tried his best when it came to his job. He was determined to be a good detective. He figured if he did his best to solve crimes and put away some of the bad guys, then if he ever got shitcanned, perhaps the good would outweigh the bad. The people he killed though, for the mob, were shitheads. They were people with bad records, killers, drug pushers, even a rapist now and then. He reached out now and then to the mob if they knew something, but a majority of the cases he solved he did it by the books. And he was good at solving them. 

However, his career took a nosedive when he got into some hot water with the Columbians. The Italians had some beef with the Russians, so to soothe things over they “hired” Mikey to do a job. He had to find a man and bring him to the Russians

Two weeks later Mikey brought to the Russian crime boss the man who raped his sister, and while he didn’t witness the torture, the screams he heard coming from the room as he left gave him nightmares for a month. While that ended the beef between the Italians and the Russians, the Columbians were pissed, because that man just happened to be a lieutenant for them. 

That’s how he ended up in Roanapur, and it’s how he became a part of Francesco's crew. He thought they needed a detective for his crew, someone who was competent and good at his job. However, they only took him in as a favor, hence why he found himself as the delivery boy. He hated Francesco, but it was better to be an errand boy and a messenger rather than getting a Columbian necktie. However, Francesco did find his skills handy at times for tracking people and investigating certain items. 

But now he was finally getting somewhere in the mob. He was now the lead investigator in trying to figure out who this vigilante was. Ronnie gave him everything he needed, men, files, pictures, information, and of course the help of the Roanapur Police force. However, it wasn’t easy. There were a lot of hired guns in Roanapur, people from all sorts of backgrounds, ranging from former military, to ex-cops, to just plain old street thugs who were born into a life of violence. 

And finding enemies of Ronnie? Well that didn’t even make the list shorter. The Italians had really pissed off the Russians when they hired those fucking twins. Then for the Columbians there was them cutting in on the coke trade. And with the Triads, well, whatever shit happened in the states didn’t usually blow back on the Italians here. However, there was always room for conflict. That wasn’t counting all the other street gangs in and pirates in Roanapur. Everyone had some form of beef. 

However, these killings were different. This wasn’t a typical gang style killing, this was personal. He read the report from one of the Roanapur detectives, who theorized that this was personal. He noted how the person put an extra bullet in the skulls of the dead goons even after tearing them apart with a machine gun. 

Forensics had come back and determined that the gun used in the shooting was a Thompson and a Beretta, though he already knew that. He did witness the shooting. However, he knew that he could try to track the weapons used. While Roanapur police were corrupt, they kept weapons that people used on file on occasion, just in case. Most of the time it was pointless, since many hitmen either tossed their weapons into the ocean after using it, but here in Roanapur, there was little risk of actually being brought to justice. It was worth a shot.

However, there was something about the Thompson used in the shooting, it looked familiar. The whole drum magazine with a wooden grip in the front. 

“Wasn’t that Dragos?” he thought. 

Drago had fallen off the map for the past couple of weeks, no one had seen him at all. He was an assassin and it wasn’t uncommon for assassins to disappear. However, the timing was...convenient. Mikey was a runner, he delivered messages. He did deliver the hit order to Drago. He always did, but he hadn’t done that in awhile. In fact, after the hit on Ronnie, that was the only job Drago had, no more had come in because he was laying low for a while. But if the vigilante killed Drago, why would they? Drago was just a simple assassin, and why would they first target Fracessco and his crew? They had already shown that they were capable of whacking Ronnie, they hit him at his house. 

“Wait, the detective from the scene noted it was personal, that means the killer must have chosen these men first because they somehow wronged them,” He thought. 

He reviewed the day of the shooting, the hit was a failure. The only casualties were a family having a picnic at the park. He read the report, a father and daughter both dead, shot to pieces. Horrible for those two, they weren’t even the target. The only survivor, a woman, the mother. He looked at her picture, she had survived, but suffered a lot of injuries. He read the name. He raised an eyebrow. If this was the person who had set their sights on Ronnie, he would have to do some research. 

“Who the fuck is Rebecca Lee?” 

******

When he called the Roanapur police about anything they had on Rebecca Lee, he could have sworn he heard the voice of the operator shake with fear. In just a matter of seconds, they faxed over the documents and files on Rebecca Lee. Mikey understood now why she was feared in Roanapur. Rebecca Lee, also known as Revy “2 guns” Lee was a hired gun who used to work for the Black Lagoon Company, a mercenary company known for doing the most dangerous jobs, and leaving a body count in their wake. Their most violent member, Revy. Stories circulated of her killing mercenaries, thugs, pirates, you name it. Her confirmed kill count was 128, however that was only in Roanapur, with all the traveling she did with the Lagoon Company, it could well be larger than that. She killed without hesitation, anyone who pissed her off. She was a sadist. There were plenty of photos of her in action, doing flips and turns as she killed people, she was damn accurate. The most terrifying though, was the photos of her posing with the bodies, and smiling with sadism over her kills, it reminded him of the pictures his uncle showed him. His uncle had served in Vietnam with special forces, and he had pictures of him and his buddies posing with dead Viet Cong bodies, and severed heads. Scared the shit out of him as a kid, what terrified him though wasn’t the bodies, it was the smiles. The smiles of those men, standing proudly over their kills like hunters with a trophy buck. It was haunting. He could not believe this was the same person who had gotten married and had a child. What kind of person could love a psychopath like her? She even had a record with the NYPD, accused of killing her own father, a NYPD detective, after years of physical abuse. Shot him right in the head with his revolver while he was sleeping, using a pillow as a makeshift silencer. However, she gained even more notoriety by shooting a few officers during a series of botched robberies, killing a couple. However, what caught his eye was the reason why she gained the nickname “2 guns”. Her main weapons of choice: two Beretta 92s, custom made. In the file there was a picture of them, they had a skull and cutlasses on them. Memories of the shooting at the Thai place filled his mind, those Berettas...could this person be…..

He then heard his cell phone ring.

“Fucking hell,” he thought. “I’m trying to work.”

He grabbed it and answered it. 

“Hell-”

“Mikey! That fuck has been turning my operations into a shooting gallery! I’ve got at least 20 guys in the morgue, and a shit ton of property damage! You better have some good news for me!” screamed Ronnie on the other end. 

“Christ, he’s impatient,” Mikey thought. 

“Well, I had the police department fax me over some files….”

“And has that gotten you any closer to who the fuck is trying to kill me?” Ronnie screamed. 

“These things take time sir,” Mikey said.

“Did you not hear about how I have men in the morgue?” Ronnie yelled. 

“I did sir, I’m actually just about to investigate a lead…”

“Don’t go yet, I’m going to send some guys over to you and a car,” Ronnie said. “They’ll assist you with your  _ investigation. _ ”

“Ok boss,” Mikey replied. 

He hung up the phone. He didn’t like the way Ronnie said investigation. It implied that he was going to do something rash, that they were going to threaten the people. THat was not the smartest thing to do. If Revy was the one behind it, then they did want to threaten her friends, that would antagonize her even more. Or, it could lead to them getting killed, the Lagoon company was not to trifle with, especially since they were under the Russians protection. If they fucked around with them, then they would have a war on their hands. He would have to approach this with caution, but he would get his information. Even friends of criminals tended to have a slip of the tongue.

****

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” muttered Eda

The one guy that was a part of Francesco's crew, and lived, happened to be a detective, who was good at putting bad guys behind bars. She managed to get a file on him faxed over, but the tapped phone conversations and bugs revealed a lot about his methods. This guy was going to be a problem, and now he was going to Revy’s former workplace. However, once Revy got word of this, his ass was cooked.

“You are digging your own grave, wiseguy,” she chuckled. 

She radioed Revy.

“What?” replied Revy.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, over?” asked Eda. 

“I swear to god I will jam my gun in your cunt and pull the trigger until the hammer goes click!”

“.............”

Eda heard a sigh of defeat.

“.....What…..over?”

“You are going to want to hear this….”


	11. May I Ask You Some Questions?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch answers some questions regarding Revy

_ Mindin' other people's business seems to be high-toned.I got all that I can do just to mind my own. Why don't you mind your own business? (Mind your own business) If you mind your own business, you'll stay busy all the time. _

  
  


_ Mind Your Own Business _

_ -Hank Williams Sr.  _

A white BMW pulled up to the Lagoon Company. In it was Mikey, and 4 body guards, armed with MP5ks and wearing kevlar vests. Mikey had a vest, but was still packing his SIG Sauer. Ronnie was not taking any chances with the vigilante around. However, Mikey was worried that this would send the wrong message. A bunch of gangsters pulling up armed to the teeth might send the wrong message. He wasn’t worried about scaring them, they knew how to shoot. 

Dutch, the boss, was a former marine who served in ‘Nam(or at least that’s what he claimed) before he went AWOL. He was now a mercenary, and was a friend of Revy’s. The question was: how close were they? Dutch was a mercenary, and mercenaries tended to be loyal to a paycheck. They would happily sell out their own if the price was right. Dutch was a different breed though, a paycheck got his loyalty to his employer, but there was no way in hell he would ever sell out his team. Yet he didn’t need Dutch to tell him everything, all he needed was some basic information on Revy, and he could piece the rest together. 

“Wait here boys,” Ronnie said.

“Boss said we have to escort you,” said one of the guards. 

“If you come up to this establishment with me, it’ll send the wrong message, I want to talk to these people, and not give them an excuse to shoot us,” Mikey replied. 

“But the boss..”

“Look! I’m in charge of trying to find the shooter who’s been using the lot of you as target practice,” Mikey said aggressively. “Let me do my job, take a break from being my meat shield.”

The guard didn’t say anything, but shot him a look. Mikey didn’t care, besides, the guards knew the consequence of not keeping him safe, Ronnnie would have their balls. This was the first time Mikey had some sort of power in the mob, so it felt good to act that way. He commanded respect, because in Ronnies eyes, he was his number one detective. 

Mikey walked up to the building, it was quiet, and then he saw a big, burley black man appear from behind a crate. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and a big revolver in is other hand, it wasn’t pointed at Mikey, but it was to show that he was not to be fucked with. He was wearing a flak jacket and dark sunglasses. However, Mikey could tell that this man was sizing him up. 

“Morning,” the man said, sipping his coffee.

“Good morning,” Mikey said. “My name is Mikey O’Driscole.”

“Names Dutch, Welcome to the Lagoon Company,” Dutch said. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m here to ask a few questions,” Mikey said.

“Is it about my company?” asked Dutch slyly. “If you have any complaints, take it up with Hotel Moscow. If you want to hire us for a job, then you can take it up with either me, or Balalika.”

“No it’s about one of your employees,” Mikey replied. “Former employee actually, Rebecca Lee.”

Dutch sipped his coffee for a moment, pondering Mikey’s request.

“Step inside my office.”

  
  


*****

Dutch’s office smelled like cigarette smoke and gunpowder. His office looked like a typical manager's office from some office building, complete with a desk, a fake plant, and phone. It was a business though, so it would make sense to have some sort of professionalism. 

“So O’Driscole, that doesn’t sound very Italian,” Dutch commented. 

Mikey chuckled and lit up a cigarette, “Yeah, mother was Italian, and she fell for a mick, and that’s how I came to be.”

Dutch laughed. “So, why did the Italians let you join?”

“Hey, I still was  _ part  _ Italian,” snorted Mikey. “Even a part wop part narrow back has a purpose.”

“And that was?”

“I was a police officer for the NYPD,” Mikey said. “You can probably guess what I did for them.”

They laughed, but Dutch was not letting his guard down. It was no surprise the Italians would come down here for information. It was nice they weren’t shooting up the place, so this was unusual. Ronnie wasn’t known for his cool, so seeing an Italian who just wanted to talk, well, that was unique. No threats, no gunshots, just an Italian man dressed in a white long sleeve button up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a pair of jeans. He even had a notebook out, like he was a detective on the case. 

“This guy reliving his glory days?” thought Dutch. 

When soldiers wanted to relive their glory days, they joined a mercenary group. They would find themselve knee deep in blood and guts, without having to worry about following the Geneva Convention. He never heard of a cop wanting to relive their glory days, but from the looks of this guy he must have missed his work. While he didn’t explicitly say he was a detective, Dutch knew no one just comes in and asks to know more about Revy. Even though he knew Revy was shooting up the Italians, it also showed that perhaps this one had some brains. 

“So, tell me,” Dutch leaned in, looking at Mikey dead in the eye. “Why are you here?”

Mikey kept a straight face, he learned that if you want something, you gotta stay cool. No emotion. 

“I simply wish to inquire about one of your employees, Rebecca Lee, also goes by Revy.”

“Revy used to work for us, she quit about five years ago,” Dutch said, 

“What was her job?” asked Mikey.

Dutch smugly smiled. “Security, and she was damn good at it.”

That confirmed one fact, Revy was a hired gun.

“She ever kill anyone?” asked Mikey.

Dutch laughed. “There wasn’t a single job that did not end with some getting shot by Revy.”

“Really?”

“Anyone who shot at us, or pissed her off, got their brains blown out,” chortled Dutch. “And let me tell you, she had a short fuse.”

“Sounds to me like she needed anger management,” joked Mikey.

“Benny mentioned that to her once, damn near got his knees shot out,” laughed Dutch.

The office was filled with laughter, highly unusual for an interrogation. However this is how Mikey worked. 

He was a good detective because he acted casual when talking to suspects or witnesses. He cracked jokes when it was appropriate, he got serious when he needed to, and he comforted them when he needed. However, throughout the entire process, it was an interrogation, and they didn’t even know it. People tend to reveal a lot more when they feel at ease. 

It was said that when Stalin drank with people, his glass was always full of water. The people he was with, all had alcohol. This was because people who were drunk tended to reveal secrets. In this case, it was Mikey’s personality.

“Seems like she enjoyed her work,” Mikey commented.

“Enjoyed is an understatement, she loved her work,” Dutch replied. “I never seen someone enjoy shooting and killing so much.”

“Then why did she quit?” asked Mikey.

Dutch paused for a moment, he had to be cautious now, one wrong word and he could give this prick the information he needed. 

“Personal reasons,” Dutch said. “That’s all I’ll say.”

“Ok, then can I ask about one of your other employees?” asked Mikey. “One Rokuro Okajima?”

Dutch’s eyes narrowed.

“You can find him in the cemetery,” Dutch said coldly. 

“Did Revy kill him?” asked Mikey.

Dutch wanted to shoot him right there, it would be easy. The muscle in the car would be a breeze as well, the Italians didn’t have the best soldiers on the playing field. But that would bring the force of the Italians down on him, too risky. He maintained his cool composure. 

“She wanted to multiple times, but didn’t,” He said calmly.

“I see, then why is he dead?” asked Mikey.

“Ask the cops,” replied Dutch.

Mikey could tell that Dutch was getting pissed. However, he was revealing more than he thought. Revy did work here, she was a killer, and she had a short temper. He knew Rock was dead, he had gotten shot to bits during that failed hit. However, this little conversation now puts Revy at the top of his list. 

“I think it’s about time for me to go,” he thought. 

He glanced at his watch.

“Oh dear, I have to go,” he said acting surprised. “Thank you for your time.”

“You are welcome,” Dutch said calmly. 

Mikey left the office and headed back to the car. 

“Ronnie is going to be in for a surprise for this, he wanted results, well I think I’ve got them,” he thought.

As he strutted towards the car, Dutch kept an eye on him. 

“Little prick might be on the right path,” Dutch thought. 

A smile crept onto his face. He then grabbed the phone and punched in a number. The dial tone range. The receiver on the other end clicked. 

“Yeah?” asked Eda.

“It’s Dutch.”

“What is it?” 

“Revy said for me to let her know when some Italian fuck came here to talk. His name is Mikey O'Driscoll.”

There was a scuffle over the phone and Revy answered: “Did you say Mikey O’Driscoll?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me everything.”

  
  



	12. Mafias Most Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey reveals who's been turning Ronnie's operations into a shooting gallery.

_ I gotcha, uh-huh, huh. You thought I didn't see ya now, didn't ya, uh-huh, huh. You tried to sneak by me now, didn't ya,  _

_ I Gotcha _

_ -Joe Tex _

  
  


Mikey stood nervously in front of Ronnie and his men. He could feel beads of sweat dripping down his headHe could feel Ronnie’s eyes burning a hole through him. Ronnie was on the edge, Mikey could see hints of white powder in the crevices of his nose, and between his trembling fingers was a cigarette. There was a hefty glass of whiskey next to him as well. His eyes were red and blazing from impatience and anger. 

“I really hope he doesn’t have a gun on him,” thought Mikey nervously.

“Well, we are fucking waiting!” yelled Ronnie.

One of his bodyguards attempted to calm him, but Ronnie’s fist shot out and broke his nose. 

Mikey took a deep breath. “You remember that assassination attempt on you in the park?”

“How could I not forget?” growled Ronnie. “Fucking Columbians took a swing at me, why?”

That was the cover story for the assassination attempt, Columbians took a whack at him, not his own group. He was gullible enough to fall for it. 

“Well, apparently there was a couple with their child caught in the crossfire,” Mikey explained. “Hit by both the assassin's bullets and your mens.”

“And? Did they hire a hitman?” snorted Ronnie.

Mikey sighed.

“Fuck it, this isn’t the NYPD. He wants to know who it is, I’ll fuckin’ tell him,” he thought.

“Does the name Rebecca Lee mean anything to you?” he asked. 

There was a dead silence in the room. Ronnie’s eyes went wide. The men in the room started shuffling nervously as well. It was as if he mentioned the name of the devil himself. .

“Did you say Rebecca Lee?” asked Ronnie, his voice shaking.

“Yeah, also goes by Revy, you know of her?” 

“Oh, I fucking know her alright,” Ronnie growled. “That bitch was a hired gun for the Lagoon Company, and worked for the Ivans! That bitch has a body count bigger than Frank Sheeran!”

“Well, her record holds up,” thought Mikey. “Dutch wasn’t lying.”

“Are you saying that cunt is the one responsible?” asked Ronnie.

“Her husband and daughter were killed in the crossfire of the assassination attempt,” Mikey said. “Considering her reputation for violence, she’s my number 1 suspect.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Ronnie said. “Revy fucking Lee. I found it hard to believe she quit, but her getting married? Jesus.”

“You didn’t keep in touch?” asked Mikey.

“That bitch was a pain in our ass,” Ronnie growled. “When she left, we fucking celebrated, but now she’s back?”

Ronnie lit a cigarette and started puffing. 

“Why the fuck hasn’t she gone after the Columbians?” he muttered. 

Mikey thought of a lie quickly. “She’s probably taking her time is all, and wants to go after one gang at a time.”

“Or it’s because it was only the Italians behind the shooting,” he thought. 

“However, I have reason to believe that someone is helping her,” Mikey said. 

Ronnie’s eyes narrowed, Mikey knew he had his attention.

“I read through Revy’s files, and from what I could gather, she is usually sporadic with her killings, she kills without restraint because she likes it. She kills when she is provoked, or pissed off. That’s how she maintained her deadly reputation. However, such bloodlust is a problem, it needs guidance, control. If she was on her own, she probably would have showed up to your mansion and let loose.”

“I wish that bitch did, then she would be fucking dead,” Ronnie growled. 

“Exactly! That’s her character!” Mikey was excited, he felt a jolt of adrenaline as he spoke, it was just like his days as a detective! “It doesn’t matter how deadly she is, the moment she does that, she would wind up getting killed. Someone is channeling her bloodlust, getting her to savor it by taking her time.”

Ronnie sat backed, looking more calm. Mikey’s pitch had helped cool his head, and was revealing a lot more. 

“And who is it?” asked Ronnie. 

That’s when the smile fell from Mikey’s face. “Still looking into that.”

Ronnie lips curled into a snarl. 

“It’s not the Lagoon Company,” Mikey quickly said. “Considering their partnership with Hotel Moscow, they wouldn’t want to do anything that would potentially put them in the crosshairs of vengeful gangs.”

“You better have a suspect,” Ronnie growled. 

“I have something better, Revy’s last known address.” He grinned. 

“And what does that do?” growled Ronnie. 

“One: Revy could be living there for all we know, acting as a sort of base of operations. It would be good to check it out. Even if she isn’t there, if she’s storing weapons or intel there, it would be in our best interest to pay that house a visit, we could cripple her.”

Ronnie’s snarl faded and he looked intrigued. Mikey knew he had him.

“Two, it could provide us some clues on her current whereabouts or any friends, and perhaps some intel that could hurt her.”

Ronnie was smiling now, he loved the plan. 

“Third, it could be a good way to set a trap for her.”

“How?” asked Ronnie. 

Mikey grinned. “We take some explosives, and wire the house, if she comes back, the house blows up, no more Revy.”

“I love it!” Ronnie chimed. 

“And by some chance it doesn’t kill her, it might have her go berserk, and she’ll come right to us.”

A look of concern spread across Ronnies face. A pissed off Revy was not what he wanted. He had enough of that already. 

“That means she won’t be thinking clearly, making it easier for us to kill, seeing your home get destroyed with all those memories would be enough to set anyone off.”

Ronnie put his hands together and pondered his henchmen’s plan.

“I’ll send two cars worth of guys with you, and wear a kevlar vest!”

Mikey felt confident, he was impressing the boss. He was becoming more than just a foot soldier. He was a tactician, a perfect person for the mob to use.

****

“Oh fuck,” muttered Eda. This was not good, for the Italians at least. 

She found Revy cleaning her guns and told her the news. She expected Revy to explode with anger, using that short temper of hers. Revy instead calmly put her guns together and grabbed the stakeout shotgun. She loaded it calmly.

“What are you going to do?” asked Eda.

Revy looked at her with tranquil eyes and racked the shotgun. In a calm voice, she replied: “Going home.”


	13. Enter At Your Own Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey and some men check out the house of Revy, however, they have made a terrible mistake

_ A rat runs down the alley, and a chill runs down your spine, and someone walks across your grave, and you wish the sun would shine. 'Cause no one's going to warn you, And no one's going to yell, "Attack!". And you don’t feel the steel, ‘till it’s hanging out your back! _

_ Night Prowler _

_ -AC/DC _

  
  


2 white BMWs pulled up to the former residence of Revy Lee. It looked like no one had been there for awhile. The single story house was dark, and there were a few windows boarded up with plywood. However, it looked like the most inconspicuous place for someone to lay low as well. Not everyone hid out in fancy hotels or with friends. Sometimes, when a person has nothing left, they go home. It’s the last place anyone would look. Everyone assumes any person on the run would hide someplace far away, so their own home is often overlooked. 

“So how do you want to do this?” one of the thugs asked. 

“One of you come with me, the rest hang outside,” Mikey ordered. “If she comes out of the house, shoot her.”

“Want us to shoot to injure?” askd one of the thugs. 

Mikey smirked. “That a joke?”

The thugs chuckled and cocked their guns. They knew how dangerous Revy was. Never give that bitch a chance to breathe, the moment she showed her face, they were to shoot to kill. However, that wasn’t the plan at the moment. 

The plan was to inspect the house for evidence of her whereabouts, or if she was living there. If she wasn’t there, then they would leave her a nice welcome back present. 

Mikey was about to enter when he saw a thug grab a block of C4 and flagged him.

“Put that back!” he ordered. “We don’t need it yet.”

“But we have to rig the house-”

“Not yet! I want to investigate the house first for clues, and how do we know she didn’t booby trap the house?”

The thug pondered for a moment, but Mikey wasn’t done.

“If you go in there with a block of C4, and if there’s traps, you’ll blow us all to kingdom come.”

“Ok I get it,” the thug grumbled. 

He grabbed an MP5K and cocked it. 

“I can still bring this right?” he said sarcastically. 

“Stop fucking around,” Mikey growled. 

They moved towards the door while the rest of the men stayed near the car, keeping an eye on the windows. The door was bolted up with plywood to prevent junkies from loitering. From the looks of it, it was recently nailed up. The wood looked fresh, like it had only been there a couple of weeks. The shooting was about a month ago. 

“She had been living here, but why did she bolt it up?” Mikey thought. 

Looks could be deceiving though. Back on the force, abandoned buildings, run down houses and apartments were a common sight. Such buildings were hideouts or stash houses, or even crack houses where junkies got high. The plywood and appearance kept anyone who was weak willed away, and was a perfect cover for someone else. 

Police can’t search every building, too much work, too much man power. They could only investigate if they had probable cause, or intel. If Revy had an safe house in an abandoned warehouse or a run down apartment, it would be a long time before they found it.

This house was perfect, single story, looked abandoned, to the unsuspecting eye, it was a primary place to have a safe house. However, if someone knew the identity of the person, then that house was compromised. It stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Mikey pulled the plywood off the door, it was relatively easy for him and tossed it aside. He then checked the door. It was locked still. He took out his gun and attatched a silencer to it. He took aim at the door.

A muffled clack filled the air and the door knob split in two. The thug jumped back, startled by the action. The door slowly creaked open, giving them both a glimpse of the inside. 

It was an old trick to open a door. It was mostly quiet, emphasis on the mostly. Silencers were still considerably loud, but they muffled the sound a few decibels. However, if their target was inside the house, she shouldn’t be able to hear the gunshot. 

Mikey looked at the thug and flashed a smile. “Didn’t have a lock picking set.”

He took the silencer off and checked the crack near the door. He didn’t see any tripwire. He then slowly opened the door, just a little bit to get a good look inside, and peered in. No trip wires, no claymore, no rigged shotgun, not even a bear trap. 

“Looks safe, but move with caution,” Mikey said. 

The thug nodded and they entered, guns at the ready. The hallway was abandoned. Nothing but dust, and grime. Slowly they entered the house, their footsteps creaking on the hardwood floor. Mikey could see the thug shaking with fear.

Mikey rolled his eyes. This guy had an MP5 submachine 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“You..you ever seen Revy in action?” he whispered with his voice trembling. 

“No,” Mikey replied. 

He had seen the aftermath of her attacks on the party, and on Ronnie, but he hadn’t seen her in action. 

“She’s terrifying,” he whimpered. “I saw her once, I was at a bar and some mercenaries decided to shoot up the place. I was cowering under a table and I saw her in action.”

Mikey knew what he was referring to, an incident when mercenaries shot up the Yellow Flag.

“These guys had to be professional soldiers, but she made them look like mall security guards,” the thug continued. “And these guys had some serious fire power, like fucking assault rifles and shit. She just used her two pistols and made mincemeat out of them. She turned a one sided firefight into a goddamn massacre.”

The thug nervously laughed. “That’s when I understood why she was called ‘2 guns Lee’.”

Mikey was nervous, but this thug had to be exaggerating. Yes Mikey had seen her kill his gang, but she had the drop on them. That was a one sided fire fight. Also sorts of rumors and tall tales swirled throughout Roanapur. A lot of killers had reputations to uphold. This Revy might be dangerous, but there was no way she could be that dangerous. 

He had dealt with plenty of killers when he was in the NYPD and when he worked for the mob. Hitmen, serial killers, murderers, punks, etc. they all acted tough when they killed, but in the right situation, the facade crumbled and revealed people who would beg not to be killed in the light. Of course, that didn’t mean that he wanted to cross them. But the people he encountered had a reputation to uphold. 

There were the stone cold killers, such a Aryan Brotherhood and Cartel Hitmen, who loved their jobs. They killed anyone, and those dogs got put down whenever Mikey had the chance. However, he still had yet to determine how much of a killer Revy was. The files gave him only a glimpse of her, he had yet to see what she could actually do. For all Mikey knew, she was just a mother who was running on rage, and would tire. 

They entered the kitchen, and looked at the mess. It looked like a meth addict had torn the place apart looking for money that their family hid away from them. The cupboards were broken, the table was split in half, and the chairs were in pieces like a jigsaw puzzle. Food was strewn and it reeked of spoiled milk and rotten fruits and vegetables. The two men gagged at the smell and held their breath. They exited the kitchen and caught their breath in the living room. 

“Well, it doesn’t look like she’s been here for awhile,” Mikey said. “Or she’s just a slob.”

“What do you think happened there?” asked the thug. 

Mikey thought for a moment, “She got angry….”

He glanced back at the destroyed kitchen. “Very angry.”

The thug shuttered.

“No time to be afraid, we still have a job to do,” Mikey ordered. 

They moved through the house. They approached a room with a crude butterfly picture drawn on the door. Mikey slowly opened the door. There his eyes were assaulted by an explosion of bright colors, lots of crudely drawn butterflies, stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes. 

“This is the kids room,” Mikey said. “Or was.”

“Christ,” muttered the thug. He took a step forward to enter, but Mikey grabbed his shoulder. 

“A grieving mother wouldn't keep anything of value in here,” he said. “It’s relatively untouched, nothing has been moved.”

It was a shrine to her daughter, not a single thing seemed out of place. A grieving parent will try to keep their last memories of their child preserved, or weep softly in the room. The penalty for trespassing on such ground would be death. However, it was also a weakness for her.

“We’ll plant some C4 here,” Mikey said. “Judging by how well kept this room is, she comes by here now and then.”

The thug nodded and they continued their quest into the house. They approached the main bedroom. Mikey could hear the thug gulp. The thug was terrified. Mikey could see the sweat beading down his head. His submachine gun was shaking in his hand. 

Mikey reached his hand towards the door, trying to maintain his cool. He didn’t want this thug to panic on him. He was the leader, it was only right that he kept that up.

His hand enclosed around the metal, copper colored door. It felt cold. He slowly turned the handle and the door creaked open. 

He spotted no tripwires again, nothing. It was just a room, an empty room. There was a bed and a night stand. This had to be where the lovers laid at night. 

He turned to the thug, “Stay out here, and be ready for anything.”

The thug nodded and Mikey entered the decrepit room. The bed was made neatly, though it looked like the room hadn’t been dusted in a while. His eyes scanned the room. His eyes fell to the night stand. There a picture caught his eye. He picked it up and observed it. 

The picture was of Revy, and a Japanese fellah, that had to be Rokuro Okajima. It could only be their wedding he assumed. Except she wasn’t dressed in a white dress, it was daisy dukes and a tank top, while Okajima was in his white business clothes. They had their beers raised and it looked like Revy was planting a kiss on Okajima’s face, while he was smirking. There was a priest in the background, hence why he assumed it was a wedding. 

“Cute,” Mikey thought. 

His eyes fell to another picture. He set the previous one down and seized it. He gawked at it. This picture was of Revy and Okajima, but this one featured their daughter. She had be less than one years old. It wasn’t uncommon to have a family picture. However, the reason why this one caught his eye was the look on Revy’s face. 

This one, she was smiling. She had a huge smile on her face, one that didn’t conjecture sadism or psychopathic tendencies. This photo, she seemed happy, so genuinely happy. So was Okajima. A happy couple, made up of a psychopath and a businessman.

It boggled his mind though how this man could fall in love with her. She was a psychopath, he probably saw her do her dirty work, how could he love her? And how could he raise a child with her?

A ‘thwiping’ noise cracked through the air. Mikey turned and saw the thug stumble into the room, his hand over his throat. A red wave of blood gushed out of his throat, spilling onto his hands. His eyes looked to Mikey and pleaded for help. 

Before Mikey could do anything, the thug's forehead exploded forward, sending brains everywhere. He fell to the ground with a thud and a pool of blood ooozed all over the floor. 

Mikey looked up and saw Revy. She wasn’t wearing her mask, but she had her skull shirt on. She had her Beretta leveled at him, it had a silencer attached to it. Her face was twisted into a furious, yet cold expression. If Mikey had a full bladder he would have wet himself with the look she gave him. 

“You are in my house,” she hissed. 

One second had passed, but time seemed to slow down. In these moments, fight or flight kicks on for someone. Their mind is trying to process what the hell is going on that they either can run or fight. The air seemed still and tense, like the moment before shootout happens in a western. Mikey thought that this was it. But finally, his survival instinct kicked in. 

He scrambled for his gun,but two muffled shots from Revy’s Beretta hit him in the chest before he could aim. Mikey crumpled to the ground, his gun skidding across the ground.

He was wearing kevlar, but it still hurt. He felt like something was broken, and he couldn’t breath. He wheezed and tried to grope for his gun. A third shot hit him in the gut, kevlar stopped it, but any remaining oxygen exited his body. He lay there on the ground, gasping for air. His eye fell to his gun, lying there, just inches from his fingers. He could hear heavy footsteps coming towards him. 

He meekly tried to grab the weapon, but a boot slammed onto his wrist. He croaked in pain. He glanced and saw a pistol pointed at his head. Revy’s eyes were cold like a corpses. He could swear he saw skulls in her eyes. The scariest part was her expressionless face. She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t glaring at him, she wasn’t relishing in his suffering, nor was she taunting him, she was looking at him like he was nothing more than another notch on her pistol. That’s what terrified him the most. 

“Scream for help and you’ll be needing a pisstube,” she growled. “Nod if you understand.”

He looked and saw she had her other Beretta pointed at his crotch. He nodded and started to get some oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t say anything, aside from some coughing, but just found himself looking at her, hoping that perhaps she would take pity on him. 

“Now, tell me how many men are outside my house,” she rumbled. “And tell me using your fingers.”

Revy leaned in closer, Mikey could feel the rage radiating from her body.

“And don’t fucking lie. Or I’ll put the first bullet in your lap.”

Mikey signaled that there were 7 men outside. She didn’t say anything else, but she then grabbed his gun and tossed it out the window. She then left the room without a sound. 

“I gotta get out of here,” he thought. 

He knew going out the front would be sucide. He figured his only hope would be the window. He then heard a shotgun blast outside, and yelling, and shooting, that only lasted for a few seconds. His heart raced. 

She was going to kill him!

He crawled toward the window, but he could hear her in the house.

“Jesus christ! She’s fast!”

He reached up to the window sill, trying to hook his fingers. His energy was coming back, but his chest still hurt. He grabbed the window sill and pulled himself up. 

“Free!” he thought. 

He then heard the racking of a shotgun, followed by a boom. 

Pain erupted into his legs and he fell to the ground, howling in pain. He glanced down and saw blood oozing out, but the bone still felt intact. He then heard another rack and another boom. He felt like someone decked him in the face with a loaded boxing glove and he slumped up against the wall. Something was sticking into his face, burning. He grimaced in pain. 

HIs face was numb with pain and he looked up. Revy slowly walked over to him, then paused, looking down at him. Mikey wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of begging. He was dead anyways, no point in letting this sadist relish in his pain. 

“Finish me you bitch,” he croaked. 

Finally, Revy cracked a smile, a malevolent half smile that showed off her white teeth, like a wolf about to come in for the kill. “Not yet.”

Before fear could even muster, Revy booted him hard in the jaw with her combat boots. Mikey was out like a light, unconscious. His jaw was dislocated, but that could be popped back into place. 

Revy wasn’t going to kill him. She knew he was wearing a bulletproof vest, but shooting him with some rock salt rounds for good measure made sure he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Rock salt is a nonlethal round, mostly used by farmers to keep people off their property. It requires a lot of stitches when it connects with flesh. 

She knew who he was, some dectective fuck, and the survivor from Francessco’s party. He had information, information that would be useful. 

However, he had also made the grave mistake of coming to her house, and the mistake of rooting through her house, and most importantly, planning to blow up her house.

And he would pay for his mistake. 

  
  



	14. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could have been

_I focus on the pain, The only thing that's real. The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting._

_Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything._

_What have I become, my sweetest friend._

_Everyone I know goes away, in the end, and you could have it all, my empire of dirt._

_I will let you down, I will make you hurt_

_Hurt_

_-Johnny Cash_

Revy snapped her eyes open. She looked around wildly. This wasn’t her bed, nor was it her house. It was a white room, some windows, but it looked like a hospital. There was a startled orderly, who had been reading what looked like a porno magazine in the room. 

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed. 

Revy started getting up, everything hurt as she moved her body. The orderly halted her.

“I wouldn’t do that, you were badly….”

Revy seized his throat and the orderly’s eyes bulged. Revy leaned in as the orderly struggled to remove her iron grip from his throat. 

“Where...the fuck….is…”

“Revy?”

A familiar voice loosened her grip on the orderly’s throat. Trembling, her eyes gazed at the figure. Rock was standing there, bandage on his head, flashing a half smile. 

“Rock…” she gasped. 

“I don’t think the hospital would be too pleased if you killed an orderly, they tend to look down upon that,” he chipped. 

Revy released the orderly and hobbled towards Rock. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tight. Rock stiffened in surprise, but hugged her back. Revy started sniffling. 

“Rock...I thought….”

“Relax, it was just a scratch,” he replied. “Just barely scraped my skull, I’ll live.”

She wept on him, then looked into his eyes. Fear was prevalent in them. 

“Where’s…..”

“Mommy?” 

Revy looked and saw Hope, her arm was in a sling. Hope looked at her mother with those brown, innocent eyes. Revy’s eyes watered as she stared at her little angel. 

“Why are you crying?” Hope asked. 

Revy embraced her daughter, hugging her tightly. She sobbed into her shoulder. 

“I’m….I’m...I’m just glad you are ok,” Revy mewled. 

She felt Rocks hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s ok,” he said. “We are here.”

Revy wept, they were ok. She hadn’t failed. They were safe. 

  
  


*****

Revy’s eyes snapped open. She wasn’t in the hospital anymore, she didn’t have her daughter in her arms, nor was Rock on her shoulder. She was back in the dimly lit basement of the Church of Violence, in a bed that smelled like whiskey and gunpowder. 

She sat up and stared at the floor. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back tears. Balling her hands into tight fists, trying to kill whatever pain was trying to creep into her mind. Memories, false hopes, they were worse than any pain imaginable.

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for her, not a single night went by when she dreamt of the day where her family died. Sometimes her dreams consisted of her just staring at their corpses. She hated sleep, because that’s all she thought about. Eda had to force her to go to bed, just so that way she wouldn’t go berserk. 

Out of all the dreams though, the one she feared dreaming about, were the ones where her family lived. Those dreams provided a false sense of euphoria. That things could have been different for her if they lived, that she could have still been happy. 

That false sense of happiness is far more unsettling than any other feeling. For it's out of reach for someone like her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to include this because I remember reading some Punisher comics and some batman comics, and I like the sense of false hope. Seeing these bad ass characters struggle through a future they would never have, that's just super depressing. Check out the Justice League Episode "For the Man Who Has Everything", that one is really good at showing the false hope heroes have.
> 
> Also, Johnny Cash's version of Hurt, really hits right in the feels, felt it was perfect for this chapter. I tear up everytime I hear it.


	15. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey is ready to talk, but is Revy ready to listen?

_When the sky is gray, and the moon is hate,_

_I'll be down to get you. Roots of earth will shake._

_Sinister Purpose_

_-Creedence Clearwater Revival_

Mikey had been on the force long enough to know what a torture room looked like. Not like a serial killers torture room, since it was lacking skulls, a few corpses, and maybe some weird pictures of their mother, but a mob rooms torture room. 

They had their places set up in warehouses, meat lockers, piers, basements, a place where no one would hear you scream. Normally they tried to keep them clean, not just for cleanliness reasons, but for evidence hiding reasons. 

However, a dirty torture room, if done in a meat packing plant for an example, would get someone to squeal. The stench of dried blood and other bodily fluids was enough to get someone to spill their guts before someone even started talking. A form of psychological warfare. The moment they smelled the room, or even saw the horrors on the wall or floor, they would tell anything before the pain could be administered. 

He had no idea how long he was out for. His ribs and guts panged with pain from Revy’s bullets. His leg and face weren’t in pain. He flexed his jaw and felt the dull pain of stitches keeping his face together, resisting against any more movement. He glanced down at his leg, his pants were ripped, but there were stitches as well.

He was alive, and he knew what was coming next:

Interrogation, and probably toruture.

That psychopathic bitch was going to want information, by any means necessary. 

He struggled against his zip ties. They were on tight. He had at least two on his wrist. Then again, if he was able to get out, he had no idea where he was. For all he knew he could be somewhere deep in the jungle. Or he could be in the city. 

He gulped, his eyes darting around the dark room. He couldn’t see anything. For he knew she could be watching him now. 

  
  
  


It was the waiting that was the most terrifying part. He knew what was coming, there was no doubt about it. However, the longer he waited, the more tense he got. Beads of nervous sweat dripped down his face. This anticipation was killing him. 

“Where is she?” he thought. 

He already knew he was going to spill his guts. Holding out for Ronnie, was not the smartest move. He had done all he could to help Ronnie, now, Ronnie was going to have to survive on his own. He really wasn’t that loyal to Ronnie, he actually thought he was a prick. So if he got capped, no skin off his nose. If Ronnie and the rest of the mooks got killed, no one would retaliate against him. After he told her everything, he would fuck off out of here, hide somewhere where Revy or the mob would never find him.

The question was, would she let him go?

She had been slaughtering mooks left and right with no mercy for awhile.

Even Mikey knew that even if you squealed, your safety was never guaranteed. Mikey heard rumors about mooks being ground up into dog food or chum for sailors after they talked here in Roanapur. Outlive your usefulness, they’ll find another use for you. 

Then again, if he was lucky, she would give him a quick death, but he would rather be let go above anything else. 

He took a deep breath, he had to stay calm. Perhaps she could be reasoned with. If she wanted information, he would just simply tell her what she wanted to know. He would be cooperative. 

However, he wouldn’t tell her everything. He did that, he would take a dirt nap in an hour. He would only answer the questions she asked, nothing else. No reason to tell her everything. 

He heard a door open and heard the heavy sound of combat boots approaching him. Every step felt like his death was getting closer. He could hear something being dragged across the wooden floor of the basement, it sounded like a chair. He also heard something wheeling, like a cart. 

Mikey kept his eyes focused forward at the sound. He kept a straight face, he couldn’t risk showing any terror at the moment. 

For any interrogation process, it was in the person's best interest to not show any emotion, any guilt. The moment the slightest bit of emotion was seen, they could take advantage of that. Manipulate you. 

He had seen it many times on the NYPD during interrogations. They poked at a suspect's emotions, and he unraveled like a thread, breaking down and telling the officers what they wanted to hear. 

However, Revy didn’t have military training, nor police training. Unless she gained some experience during her exploits, he had no idea what she was capable of. And that terrified him. 

Any psychopath can torture someone. If they are twisted enough, it’s relatively easy to pull someone's teeth out, break bones, choke them, slice off limbs. However, the only problem was keeping someone alive during the process. You can’t just slice off limbs willy nilly, if you want to keep them alive for information, then you have to restrain yourself. 

Like a phantom of death itself, Revy appeared in the light. She loomed over him, staring deep into his eyes. Her eyes looked cold and lifeless, he was staring at death himself. He gulped, but maintained his poker face. He stared at her, not saying a word. He didn’t want to show any fear. A psycho like her would relish in his fear. 

Revy slung the cart into the light into Mikey’s view. Mikey's eyes fell on it. There on the cart were a variety of tools, weapons, and devices.

A pipe wrench, brass knuckles, a gas can with a rag, what looked like a seltzer bottle full of god knows what, pliers, nails, and barbed wire. 

Mikey could feel sweat dripping from his forehead with fear. He kept up his appearance. Revy pulled out her chair and flipped it around, back facing Mikey. She sat on it, resting her body against the back. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. She took a long drag, and blew the smoke in Mikey’s face. 

Mikey coughed as he inhaled the smoke, but didn’t stop staring at her. Revy kept looking at him with those dead eyes. He felt like she was judging him with every twitch. Mikey wanted to look away, but if he did that, she would win. The game is who cracks first, show any weakness, no matter how little, then your opponent wins the game. He just kept silently staring at her.

However, something was bothering him about how she was acting. Revy hadn’t said a single word, nor had she asked a single question at all. All she was doing was blowing second hand smoke in his face. Mikey was puzzled, what was her game? He was ready to tell her anything, but he didn’t know what she wanted anyways.

Finally breaking the tense silence, Mikey spoke, “What do you want to know?” 

Revy stayed silent, slowly drawing her cigarette. Those cold eyes continued burrowing a hole in Mikeys eyes. 

Mikey felt a lump form in his throat, he choked it down. 

“Look, I don’t give a shit about Ronnie, ok? I know what happened, that’s...that’s just terrible. I’m so sorry, you, and your family didn’t deserve that.”

He thought he saw Revy’s eye twitch when he said family. At least it showed that she was listening to him. Perhaps he could appeal to her better side, if she had one.

“You want him dead? Fine, that guy is a prick anyways. Just tell me what you want to know.”

Revy continued staring at him, dragging her cigarette. Her mind was somewhere else.

“You could have killed me back at your house, and I’ve seen your work. You don’t fuck around when it comes to somethign you are damn well good at. You want something from me, that’s why I’m here and not rotting on the sidewalk.”

Mikey watched as her cigarette neared the brown filter, the ashes slowly falling to the floor, burning bright, only for a few seconds, only to be snuffed out the moment they hit the floor. 

Mikey kept staring at her, not breaking eye contact. “I’m ready to talk, just ask.”

Revy continued staring him down, then finished her cigarette. She took the butt and flicked it at Mikey. He winced as the hot butt hit his cheek. 

She then stood up promptly and grabbed the bottle from the cart. She held it tightly and Mikey’s eyes fell to the bottle. 

He then made his first mistake: showing fear. 

“Hey...what are you doing with that?” he asked, his voice shaking. 

Revy kicked the chair out of the way aggressively, it ricocheted into the darkness with a crash, making Mikey jump. 

That was his second mistake. 

She advanced on him, staring at Mikey with those cold, dead eyes. 

Mikey started squirming in his chair, hoping that perhaps he could break his restraints, that maybe she didn’t secure him properly. 

That was his third mistake. 

“Look! I said I’ll talk!” he cried as he struggled. “You don’t need to-mmmph.”

Revy clamped her hand over his mouth tightly, muffling his pleas. She took out a roll of duct tape and tore off a strip with her teeth and put it over his mouth. Mikey wanted to look away and close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He could not break Revy’s menacing gaze as she stared into his soul.

She shook the bottle, making sure Mikey would see it. He pleaded using his eyes, hoping that there was a shred of mercy in them. 

She then shoved the tip of the bottle into his right nostril, and close off his left with the other hand. 

There was a brief pause that felt like forever. Time slowed, and Mikey thought, just for a moment, that this was just a nightmare, he would wake up back in bed, away from this bitch. 

Then she squeezed the bottle, and pain exploded into Mikey’s mind. 

It felt like a chili pepper bomb went off in his brain! His nostrils were fried, he could feel them burning as if he ate a spoonful of horseradish! His throat burned as the liquid traveled past his nasopharynx. He wanted to spit it out, but the tape dammed his mouth shut, leaving the spit, blood, and nasty pepper substance in his mouth. His cries were muffled by the tape. She continued spraying until the bottle was empty, not breaking her menacing stare with Mikey. 

She ripped the tape off, and Mikey was free to spit and gag. He let fresh air enter his mouth, soothing him for a brief moment. He gagged, trying to get the taste out of his mouth, his nose and mouth still felt like someone had shoved a spoonful of wasabi into his mouth. Mucus and blood poured from his nose and mouth, he spat and gagged, trying to get it away from his orifices. 

“What...the..fuck…”he gasped. 

He looked at her and she was back at her cart, looking for her next tool. 

Mikey wanted to say something, but his throat was sore from the spray, he tried spitting and heaving, hoping to clear his throat. 

“I’ll talk!” he heaved weakly. “Please!”

She turned around and had a big, nastly looking pipe wrench. The type of wrench plumbers use on big pipes to tighten them in place. 

She looked at Mikey’s left knee. A sense of dread and terror filled Mikey’s mind. 

Finally, Mikey was able to talk clearly.

“God damn it no!” He rasped. “You don’t need to do this!”

She started practicing swinging like a batter at the plate, while Mikey continued to beg hoarsely. 

She swung the wrench hard at his knee. A sickening cruch as metallic wrench shattered Mikey’s knee cap in one movement. Mikey howled in pain as blood poured down his leg. His knee looked sickenly black, red, and dislocated. 

Before Mikey could even breathe, Revy cracked him across the jaw. Fireworks went off in his head. He felt blood seep into his mouth, he spat and heard a faint tap on the ground. Even in his dazed state, he knew that was a tooth. 

She struck him again, sending a spray of blood into the darkness and across the floor. Mikey felt metal on that one, and brass knuckles registered in his mind. 

“Jesus fuck!” he thought. “She’s trying to kill me!”

She gave him another shot, this time tipping him over. He landed on his back with a thud. The pain from his knee shot up as he fell back. 

He could feel blood rapidly filling into his mouth, it poured out from his mouth like a fountain. He gagged trying not to choke on his own blood. She continued railing into him as he was on the ground, helpless like a tortoise on its back. Every blow hurt at first, but after a while, he stopped feeling it. It still hurt, but it was more like a dull pain that just ached. He wished he could just pass out. 

She finally stopped after what felt like forever, the right side of his face was swollen like a kid with a peanut allergy who just caught a whiff of peanut butter. His breathing was shallow and raspy. 

Revy looked at him, the broken detective. He wanted to find her, he got what he wanted, and now he was paying. 

She flipped him over onto his side, he was still in the chair, but on the right side, where his bad knee was still raw and sore. 

The consistent punches made him forget about it, though it still ached. 

Revy then stomped on his bum knee and he howled as a lightning strike of pain shot up his body. She grinded her boot into the broken bone, for extra pain. He pleaded for her to stop, but his pleas fell to deaf ears. 

She continued grinding, until his screams sounded more like a dying animal begging to be put out of his misery.

She then ceased the grinding, and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Mikey quietly whimpering to himself, alone in the dark, surrounded by disgusting patterns and pools of his own blood. 

****

Revy rinsed her hands off in the sink, the bastard was a bleeder. She had a lot of blood on her hands. She scrubbed hard, and the blood flowed down the drain as if it was from an exit wound. 

“What...the...fuck Revy?” growled Eda.

Revy didn’t bother looking up, she continued scrubbing the blood off her hands. 

“Do you need a refresher on how torture works?” asked Eda. “You see, when someone is giving you lip, or maybe they have tight lips, you work them over right?” 

Revy continued scrubbing, watching the blood flow down the drain. It was entrancing to her, it soothed her, reminded her of a time, when she killed and watched blood flow all the time. 

“But...and this is the most important thing,” Eda continued. “When they say they are ready to talk, you don’t need to fucking beat them like a side of beef!” 

Revy calmly took a towel and dried off her hands and started to leave. Eda grabbed her shoulder and pulled her in, looking at her dead in the eyes with anger. Revy shot her a threatening look, but it didn’t phase Eda. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Eda growled. “What the fuck was that?”

Revy glared at Eda with anger. Eda could see all the anger and rage in her eyes, it was all contained behind those eyes. 

“You could have stopped it any time,” Revy said sternly. 

She then broke Eda’s grip and stormed off to her room. 

Eda was steaming but didn’t say anything. Right now, she was definitely worried about Revy. 

Eda wasn’t unaccustomed to torture, she had seen plenty of it in the CIA. Everything from waterboarding, to electro shock, to more barbaric methods like bamboo under fingernails, a little eye gouging, and teeth pulling now and then. 

While torture did get answers, the answers were usually what they wanted to hear. 

That was the nasty secret about toruture, you do all sorts of horrible things that would make you lie awake at night, reflecting on your entire life, and still get the wrong information. People will do anything to make the pain stop, and if that means telling the torturers exactly what they want to hear, then they’ll talk, even if they don’t know shit. 

They could have tortured Mikey all day, and he would tell them what they want. But he would probably tell them that he was the one who orchestrated the assassination, that he was Balalika’s lover, that he was behind the JFK assassination. 

Unless you know a lot about the target and know that they have information on someone, then a little torture never hurts. However, there was no justification for what Revy did. 

A dark thought entered Eda’s mind, for there was another reason why some people resorted to torture: they liked it.

They enjoy inflicting pain on someone, regardless of what the outcome is. Eda knew a couple of sick fucks who loved torturing prisoners just for the hell of it. They sodomized prisoners with nightsticks, hooked up car batteries to their testicles, they would even wrap plastic bags filled with urine around prisoners' heads. They would justify it by saying that it was all for intelligence gathering, but deep down, it was because they loved it. 

Revy was already a sadistic fuck, and Eda knew that, but this...this was too far. She had never seen this side of Revy before.

“Tragedy always brings out the worst in people,” Eda muttered. “The most fucked up beyond all recognition worst in people.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter y'all. Sorry this took a bit, school has been keeping me busy. Other chapter will be coming soon, just gotta stay on top of my work, and write when I get the chance.  
> Fun fact about the first method, I got inspired by the movie Traffic where they torture a hitman using a chili powder soda spray, according to the script they also mixed gunpowder in with it, very painful.


	16. Nothing is Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eda decides to handle the interrogation

_ Whoa, tell me baby,  _

_ What’s the matter, yeah? _

_ Why don’t you hear me crying? _

_ Smokestack Lightnin’ _

_ -Howling Wolf  _

In the pool of his own blood, and mucus, Mikey was passed out, unconscious. Pain had been too much, so his body shut down for a while to rest. Of course, he wasn’t going to heal over night, but after being beaten to a near pulp with a wrench and brass knuckles, rest felt nice. 

“Wake up!” 

Mikey slowly opened his eyes and saw another woman sitting down in front of him, she was dressed like a nun, but casually. She was wearing pink sunglasses, and had a cigarette in her mouth. He was now upright, a dull pain ached in his leg, and in his mouth.

Eda could tell he was scared. He was shaking and eyeing her like she was a psychopath. Revy did a number on him. For all he knew, she was going to start torturing the living fuck out of him again. 

She held up a canteen. “Water?”

Mikey nodded and Eda unscrewed the cap. She waterfall the water into Mikey’s mouth, he drank it like a man who had been in the desert for ever. The water seemed to brighten his spirits a little bit. He breathed a little easier. 

Eda then held out a cigarette, offering it to Mikey. Mikey silently nodded and Eda placed it in his mouth and lit it. Mikey started puffing on it rapidly at first, then he slowed down, 

Eda wasn’t doing this just to be kind, she felt a little bad for him but it was to build a relationship with the prisoner. Even though he just got tortured, if someone showed him a little bit of kindness, he would be more willing to talk. 

Classic CIA tactic, torture someone, then give them a sandwich and some water afterwareds, they would be your best friend. 

“How you feeling?” Eda asked. 

Mikey eyed her wearily. Eda chuckled softly. 

“Yeah, I feel that.”

She took a long drag of her cigarette. 

“She worked you over didn’t she?” Eda looked at his leg, it was facing a direction that was not natural. It was caked in dark, dried blood. 

“I will say, that was, unprofessional.”

“I was ready to talk,” he whimpered, finally speaking. 

Eda sighed, “She’s a little…..well...fucked up right now.”

“You think?” Mikey replied terrified.

His cigarette fell from his mouth, Eda gave him a fresh one and lit it. 

“Well, you’ve read all about her haven’t you?” asked Eda. “So you know why she’s a little messed up.”

Mikey didn’t even bother replying. 

“That leg looks like it could get infected,” Eda commented. 

Mikey eyed her and replied sarcastically, “Yeah, hitting it with a pipe wrench will do that.”

A half smile appeared in Eda's face. “I could get that looked at, maybe give you something to ease the pain.”

“That would be nice,” MIkey replied 

“Of course, nothing is free,” Eda said smugly. 

Mikey chuckled, now he was with someone who was reasonable, confident smile spread to his lips. “What do you want to know?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, this one may be short but I wanted to make sure I got something for y'all. Thanks for all the support and comments! Really makes it worth writing.


	17. Loose Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interrogation goes wrong

_No mercy for the bad, if they want it_

_No mercy for the bad, if they plead_

_No mercy for the bad, if they need it_

_Ooh, no mercy from me_

_Tell no truth and tell no lies_

_Cross your heart and hope to die_

_Inject the Venom_

_-AC/DC_

After an hour of chatting and smoking, Eda had gotten quite a bit out of Mikey. He felt more relaxed around her, and chatted away. They had gone through about half a pack of cigarettes. Eda now knew that Ronnie was aware who was gunning for him, as if the kidnapping of his detective at Revy’s house didn’t make things really obvious. She also learned that reinforcements were being called in. 

“He’s got backup arriving?” asked Eda.

“Yep, he’s got 50 guys as backup on their way, armed to the teeth,” Mikey said with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

“What kind of firepower are we dealing with?” asked Eda.

“Relax, it’s mostly a bunch of mooks with uzis and AKs,” Mikey replied. “They got a couple RPGs though, the only problem is most are former cops.”

“Police?” 

“Yep, got a lot of experience with punks shooting at them, so they won’t be as easy to take down like the wise guys your attack dog was dealing with.”

Eda knew Revy had taken on her fair share of soldiers and cops, and that wasn’t going to be a problem. The numbers didn’t frighten Revy either, she once took down an entire ship and bowling alley worth of fucks with ease. However, that was 50 guys mixed with Ronnie’s current numbers, which was about 60, 110 wiseguys, that’s a lot of guns. 

“Where would be a good place to hit Ronnie?” asked Eda. 

“Well, definitely not his house, he has enough wiseguys guarding his place,” Mikey replied. “Lotta bullet proof windows, and I hear he has some machine gun nests, and a bunker to hide just in case.”

“Does he leave at all?” asked Eda. “He can’t stay there forever.”

“Nope, after someone decided to take a shot at him with an RPG, he’s gone under,” replied Mikey. 

“Fuck,” muttered Eda.

Revy could keep up her guerilla warfare charade for a while, however a long term war with Ronnie could prove to be costly. Even if they were able to hit Ronnie’s operations, the arrival of reinforcements could complicate the attacks. . 

  
  


“Has Ronnie put a bounty on Revy?” Eda asked. 

“Not yet, he wants to wait until his guys get here,” Mikey replied. “Wants to secure his territory first.”

“Amount?”

“100 large.”

“You gotta be kidding me!”

“If that doesn’t attract the scum in this city I don’t know what will.”

Mikey took a long puff of his cigarette. “Once that bounty’s active, she better have enough ammo.”

Eda knew it didn’t matter how skilled Revy was, or how much firepower she had, she could be worn down after a while. Her rage propelled her, but that only went so far.

Eda then remembered what Mikey said. “His backup hasn’t arrived yet?”

“Yeah, they are due this Friday,” Mikey replied, and a smile spread to his face. “And that might be the proper time to whack him.”

Eda leaned forward with interest. “Why?”

“Because, he’s the type of wise guy that likes to give speeches in front of the troops,” Mikey chuckled. “He’s going to meet his muscle in person, tell them about the target, and fucking rally them or some shit like he’s Mussilini.”

There’s a reason why the Italians were looked down upon in Roanapur. They weren’t the best, they may run Italy, and New York, but here they were outmatched. They were always doing stupid shit. 

“What time does he leave?” asked Eda. 

“Well, about 7 p.m.” Mikey replied. “But there’s going to be multiple cars taking different routes. All will lead to the docks.”

That would complicate things, a lot. Hit the wrong one, then Ronnie gets away. Classic misdirection.

“Know the car he’s going to be in?” asked Eda.

“Nope, he’s got the routes, but he’s not choosing a car until the day of the meeting,” Mikey replied. “Loose lips sink ships.”

Despite Ronnie being somewhat of a dumbass, that was a smart move. It meant that it would be difficult finding him.

“Speaking of cops,” Eda asked. “I gotta know, what was Francesco doing with a former cop?”

Mikey chuckled. “He took me in as a favor, and you think he would love having a detective on his crew? Well, I was fucking wrong.”

“What did he have you do?” asked Eda.

“I was a gopher,” Mikey replied. 

“What?”

“Go-for pizza, go-for coke, go-for a ladyboy hooker!”

They roared with laughter, Mikey was at ease. His leg still hurt a little, but it didn’t matter. This person was much easier to talk to than that bitch Revy. He knew a reasonable person when he saw one. 

Eda was enjoying how easy this was. You didn’t need to beat someone with a pipe wrench to have them give you information, sometimes all you needed was a cigarette and a nice conversation 

“A lady-boy?” laughed Eda. “You serious?” 

“Hey! Francesco had his tastes!” howled Mikey.

It felt good to laugh. After getting tortured, laughter was the best medicine. 

Eda finally calmed down. “Seems like a waste, using a detective for that.”

Mikey chuckled hoarsly. “Eh, I at least got to help the crew in some ways.”

“Like what?”

“I was a messenger.”

Eda cocked her head. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, Francesco was always worried about phones being tapped, so he would send me to run messages for him.”

“What kind of messages?”

Mikey took a deep drag of his cigarette, like he had all the time in the world. He puffed out a shot of smoke from the corner of his mouth.

“I was a middle man,” he said. 

Eda cocked her head and took a drag of a cigarette. “What does that mean?”

Mikey exhaled a long tuft of smoke. “When someone needed someone taken care of, they would send me.”

“So you were a hitman?”

“Not exactly, Francesco was a careful fuck when it came to contracts. So what he would do is he would send me, with a note of the target, to a location where I would meet the hitman, and pass him the note. Then I would get the fuck out of there. I didn’t know who was on the note, nor did I know who put out the hit, I was just the middleman.”

Mikey took a puff of his cigarette, “You see, Francesco had this idea that if someone decided to shake me down, all they would get is a name. However, they wouldn’t know who was getting hired, or who hired them. Which means they could torture the fuck out of me all they wanted, but they wouldn’t get anything, not because I would play hardball, but because I wouldn’t know shit.”

Mikey chuckled softly. “I mean, you think it wouldn’t bother me not knowing who was getting killed, but in all honesty, I think it worse not knowing.”

Eda raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Why?”

“Because, then you got to wonder which poor fuck got whacked, I mean shit, lots of people get killed in Roanapur every day, you gotta wonder which one was the one you deli-”

Just then his windpipe was cut off as a metallic strand of barbed wire wrapped around his throat. Mikey’s eyes bulged as it squeezed around his neck like a metal boa constrictor. He thrashed his body, trying to escape, but the zip ties still held him. All he could do is thrash his head as the barbs dug deeper into his throat. 

Eda shot up in surprise and lunged at the strangler. The two tumbled to the ground, while Mikey was knocked back. He coughed and gasped for air. 

“Revy! What the fuck is the matter with you?” yelled Eda. 

Revy’s eyes were blazing with violence, it didn’t seem any bit reason was left in her. She slowly stood up, keeping those eyes trained on Mikey.

“Are you trying to make this harder for you?” growled Eda. “He was giving me information, you can use!”

“Step aside,” Revy growled. 

Eda cocked her head, “Why?”

“Step aside, now.”

“Revy, I know you hate the Italians, but this isn’t Yugoslavia where you can torture people for the hell of it, you are fighting a war, right now, information is…”

Eda fell silent as Revy brandished a pistol and leveled it at her. “I’m not asking.”

Revy had always threatened to shoot Eda in the past, and Eda did as well, but both never would have done such a deed. Even when Eda threatened to sleep with Rock, and Revy set her gun on the table as a threat, it was all a joke. They were just pushing each other's buttons. 

“Revy...think about what you are doing…”Eda stammered. “You are pointing a gun at your best friend! Your best friend!”

“Then step aside,” Revy growled. “And I won’t have to use it.”

“Jesus fuck Revy!” Eda cried. “Are you really going to shoot me so you can waste him?”

“Eda, think about why I want to kill him,” Revy said. 

Eda thought rapidly, despite having plenty of guns pointed at her, her mind was panicking. This was her best friend, who she knew was a god damn sadist. Most of the time when people pointed guns at her, they could be reasoned with. Rebels, agents, even law enforcement. They are always willing to listen. 

“Ok, he worked for Francesco’s gang, but that’s not enough to warrant this!” Eda thought. “I mean, he didn’t even pull the trigger, he was just the….”

Eda was stunned. “You are going to kill him because he delivered the hit?”

“Bingo,” Revy growled. 

“Revy, he didn’t know you, Rock, or…”

“Don’t you dare say her name!” 

Eda could have sworn she saw a sliver of melancholy in Revy’s eyes, but it was swallowed up by the rage. 

“Revy…. the target wasn’t even you! It was Ronnie! He had no idea where the hit was going down! He didn’t know your family was going to be there.”

“He still could have made the decision to not deliver it!”

Eda laughing nervously, “You serious?”

Revy’s grip tightened around the gun to where her knuckles were white like snow. 

“You can’t be serious,” Eda repeated. 

Revy thumbed the hammer, the click made the entire room silent like a graveyard. 

“Revy...do you even hear yourself?” asked Eda.

“Get out of the way,” Revy growled. 

Eda bowed her head and stepped aside. Revy slowly walked over to Mikey, keeping her gun on Eda. 

Eda’s hand shot out, twisting the gun towards the ground. The gun went off, bullets ricochet off the ground. Eda wrenched Revy’s wrist, she howled and dropped the gun. Revy weakly threw a haymaker. Eda ducked and wrapped her arm around Revy’s throat. Revy clawed at her arm, trying to break the grip. Eda sunk her arm deeper under Revy’s throat, pressing into her carotid artery. Revy made a gagging sound as Eda pressed deeper. She pressed her arm behind her neck, putting more pressure. Revy squirmed and thrashed, trying to break free, but Eda continued applying pressure. 

“Go to sleep,” she whispered aggressively. 

Revy’s thrashing slowed as the blood flow ceased. In a matter of seconds, Revy was unconscious. Eda laid her friend on the ground and took out a zip tie. 

“Damn you for making me do this,” she muttered as she tied her wrists. 

She would be out for a while, and she needed some time to cool off. 

“Thanks,” Mikey rasped, his throat still sore from his strangling. 

Eda looked at him with weary eyes. “Don’t thank me yet.”

She dragged Revy away, out of the room. Revy was always a hothead, however, this was too much. 

  
  


It was time for them to have a chat. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn I loved writing this chapter. Finally had some time so I was able to get this done. Another chapter will be coming soon, thanks for being patient.


End file.
